


All My Memories Gather ‘Round

by Anne_Nonymous



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, Family Reunions, Gen, Nobody is Dead, Post-Canon, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Nonymous/pseuds/Anne_Nonymous
Summary: What happens when the long-dead Stark family members come back to life and return to Winterfell? Pasts are explained, secrets are revealed, emotions are running high. It’s a Stark family reunion unlike anything they ever could have imagined.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 234
Kudos: 644





	1. Ned

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. Be sure to read tags, relationship tags in particular. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title is from the John Denver song Country Roads.

Ned watched his youngest daughter disappear from the statue of Baylor and closed his eyes against the crowd. He wished he could close his ears to the sounds of Sansa’s screams. He never wanted this for his girls. His whole family deserved better and he failed them. This was his last thought as the blade touched against his neck and all went black. His conscious self seemed to no longer exist as the blackness engulfed him completely. Time contracted and expanded all at once and Ned no longer felt or thought as he once did. He did not exist as he once did, yet he was not gone completely. Ned couldn’t have said how long the blackness lasted. Was it minutes? Hours? Years? 

All at once the blackness seemed to lessen. It was still dark, but rather than a void of nothingness, this darkness was more familiar, more like one would experience waking from a dream on a moonless night. Ned’s consciousness returned and with it came a realization that he hadn’t breathed in far too long. His eyes snapped open at the same time his lungs sputtered to life causing Ned to gasp for breath. He stared above him at a patchwork of red and blue. Slowly his eyes focused and Ned realized he was laying underneath a weirwood tree. He willed his arms to move and turned over his hands to feel the ground beneath him. Cold and wet. Patches of snow and ice. _What is happening? Is this the afterlife?_ Ned turned his head and there laying to his right was his wife Catelyn. Ned’s heart surged as he sat up for the first time and looked down at his lady wife. 

_Is she dead too? Are we in the afterlife together?_

“C—Catelyn?” 

His voice sounded rough to his own ears. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time reaching out and taking Catelyn by the shoulder, “Catelyn. Catelyn, wake up my love.” 

Catelyn’s eyelids fluttered and opened slowly. They settled on Ned staring down at her from above and then quickly widened in shock. Catelyn gasped and sat up in one swift motion. “Ned? Ned is it you? But— but, you’re dead!” She reached up and grasped her throat, fear and confusion making her blue eyes flare. She began looking around frantically. “Robb! Robb, where are you?” Uncertain at his wife’s obvious distress and fear, Ned attempted to take her into his arms and settle her. Suddenly they heard someone running through the godswood toward them. “Mother!” The voice came moments before Ned’s eldest son emerged from behind a tree. Robb took one look at his mother and father and skidded to a halt. “Father?” Robb’s confusion mirrored his mother’s. Ned took the opportunity to take stock of his boy. No. Not a boy any longer. Before him stood a man, years older than he was the last time Ned had the pleasure of laying eyes on his son. This Robb was taller and more filled out, his hair longer. Robb’s innocence and youthfulness were replaced by a maturity and the look of a man who had lived through more in his few years than many men experience in a lifetime. Ned’s heart lurched for his son and he rose to his feet and hurled himself into Robb’s arms. 

“Robb my boy. I thought never to see you again.”

“And you father,” Robb replied as he pulled out of the embrace, “what is happening? Why are we here? Is this the afterlife?”

Ned again grew confused and looked between his wife and his son. “Joffrey sentenced me to die at the Sept of Baylor. I know I must be dead. I felt the blade against my neck.” He subconsciously reached back and rubbed the skin at the base of his neck. “But why are you here? Surely you are still living? Robb? You’re much too young to be here with me in the afterlife.”

“Oh Ned!” Catelyn cried out and threw her arms about Ned’s shoulders. “But we did die.”

Catelyn did not have a chance to elaborate. The three of them looked to their left at the sound of more footsteps heading their direction. Two boys were walking toward them. One was clearly Bran, looking just as he did the day he fell from the tower wall. _But that can’t be right,_ thought Ned. _Bran survived his fall._ Unable to reconcile the information he knew to be true with the image of his young son standing before him in what must be the afterlife, Ned turned his attention to the boy standing to Bran’s left. This boy was unfamiliar. He appeared to be about twelve years old and had the same ruddy colored curls as Robb did at that age. He was tall and lanky and had a haunted look about him. _Could this be… but no. Surely little Rickon had gone on to lead a much longer life than this?_

Catelyn experienced no hesitation. “Bran! Rickon? My boys!” she exclaimed as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her youngest sons. 

“Rickon?” Robb moved forward, looking at Rickon like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “But— I thought— Theon...”

At this, Bran spoke. “Theon did not kill us. He killed two farmer boys and passed the burnt bodies off as me and Rickon. With the help of Hodor, Maester Luwin, and the wildling woman Osha, we were able to escape Theon’s raid on Winterfell.” 

Ned’s mind was spinning at this new information. Theon? Raiding Winterfell and killing two small boys? Passing their deaths off as Ned’s own sons? What became of his family after he died? How long had they lived and what had they endured after that fateful day of Ned’s execution? 

As if sensing Ned’s questions Bran once again spoke. 

“There is much to discuss but let me first answer this… we are not in the afterlife. We have been brought back. I brought us back to life using old magic. It has been many years since you all died. It has been over five years since the Long Night, since life in Westeros as we knew it almost stopped existing. I’ve sent a raven and someone should be coming to find us any moment now. Let’s reunite with those who are still living and then we can each tell our tales of life and death.”

As if summoned by Bran’s very own words, a knight emerged from the shadows. 

Ned, still reeling from Bran’s pronouncement that not only had they been brought back to life, but that Bran himself had done the deed using old magic, was scarcely prepared for the knight to not only be a woman, but one his wife apparently knew. 

“Brienne!” Ned watched as his lady wife propelled herself toward the strange female knight and embraced her as if she were an old friend. 

“My Lady” the knight, looking exceedingly uncomfortable with Catelyn’s show of affection, removed herself from the embrace and knelt in front of Catelyn. 

“It is true,” the knight breathed, looking up at Catelyn and the others with wonder. “I read the raven from the King and thought someone must be playing a cruel jest.”

Ned watched as Bran stepped forward. “It was not a jest Ser and I am grateful you chose to heed my words and come to retrieve us.”

_My words? Did not that lady knight say the message was from the King? Is Bran claiming himself to be King?_

Ned was clearly not the only one wondering these questions. 

“King? Bran? Are you saying you are the King?” Robb turned toward young Bran and voiced the question all were thinking. 

“I am not anymore.” 

Ned had had enough. His mind was spinning with the onslaught of information and the knowledge that mere minutes ago he had been dead and now he was alive and surrounded by family he had never dreamed to see again. He needed some time to process his new reality. 

“My Lady,” he began, unsure how to address the large knight before him. 

“Brienne is a knight in her own right, father” Bran cut in. 

Ned blinked. On top of everything else he had learned these last few minutes, discovering that a woman had been made a knight came as the least surprise. 

“Forgive me. Ser Brienne. If you would please escort my family and I to a private chamber within the castle I would be most appreciative. It seems we have much to discuss and I would prefer to do that somewhere safe and comfortable.”

Ser Brienne bowed, “yes My Lord.” She swept a hesitant gaze at the resurrected members of the Stark family and gestured towards the castle. “If you’ll please follow me.”


	2. Catelyn

Catelyn followed silently as Breinne led the way through the godswood and into the castle. Brienne was careful to avoid passing by anyone who might take notice of the Stark family and wonder at their return from the dead. Although Catelyn wasn’t sure many would be left who knew the Starks as they once were. Not for the first time since being back Catelyn wondered how Winterfell came to be back in the Stark family’s possession. And it was held by the Stark’s again, of that Catelyn was sure. Not only was Brienne wearing the Stark sigil upon her armor, but banners and tapestries depicting the same wolf sigil adorned the walls both inside and outside of the castle. She looked back at her two youngest sons. They both seemed much too young to have taken Winterfell back before their untimely deaths. Which meant only one other possibility. One of her daughters must be the Lady of Winterfell now. Brienne’s very presence confirmed her assumption and Catelyn felt a mixture of pride and relief at knowing Brienne had indeed fulfilled her oath and secured the release of her daughters from the Lannisters. 

Brienne kept a quick pace and before Catelyn knew it they had arrived in the family wing of the castle. It was at once different and yet so familiar. The pathways led exactly where Catelyn expected them to, only many stones had been replaced and even complete walls appeared to have been quite recently rebuilt. The outside of the castle boasted similar repairs and Catelyn couldn’t help but wonder what Winterfell and its people had lived through in the many years since she had left. She stole a glance at Rickon. Her baby. He looked almost nothing like the sweet young boy, a babe really, who she left all those years ago. And to think, time had continued marching onward even after poor Rickon met his untimely demise. Catelyn shuddered to think how old her daughters must be. _As old as me? Older? But no, Brienne hasn’t aged overmuch._ Perhaps Rickon lived to be reunited with his sisters and his death was much more recent than she initially assumed. She’d had a hard time making sense of Bran’s words as he spoke of old magic and resurrections, long nights and… and a kingship? Had she heard that last part correctly? Surely the Northmen hadn’t chosen Bran, a young and crippled boy, as Robb’s successor? Catelyn was eager to hear the tales of those who died after her. The few pieces of information she had gathered so far were nothing but confusing and only added to the growing pressure in her head. 

She was relieved when Brienne stopped at the door to her solar. Beyond the solar lay Ned and Catelyn’s bedchamber and Catelyn thought perhaps a quick rest would do her mind good. Brienne always did have her Lady’s well-being at heart. 

Brienne raised her hand to knock and then hesitated. She seemed to think over her next words carefully before finally speaking. “If you will all wait here a moment, I will announce your… arrival… and be back to admit you shortly.”

Then Brienne knocked once and opened the door, slipping in and closing it behind her before Catelyn was able to see into the room beyond. 

Catelyn turned to Ned, seeking his ever-present reassurance. She found his eyes as clouded with confusion and a desire for understanding as she assumed hers must be. Oh how she had missed her Ned. First when he left for Kings Landing, and then much more deeply and achingly after he was lost to her forever. She wasn’t sure what to make of Bran’s “old magic,” but she knew one thing for certain — her family was returned to her this day and she would do whatever it took to keep them together, to reassure them of her love. She saw a similar spark of determination in Ned’s eyes before the door to their solar once again opened and Brienne gestured them through. 

“The Queen will see you now.”

Catelyn startled at Brienne’s words. _Did Sansa become Queen after Bran died?_

Catelyn’s eyes swept the room as she walked in, only vaguely noticing the fresh tapestries and new stones before settling on a figure who was at once familiar and all too unknown. The girl — no, woman — standing in front of her, this tall, regal figure draped in the finest clothes, resembled herself so much at that age that Catelyn let out an audible gasp. 

“Sansa” she breathed, wishing to hurl herself into her daughter's arms but somehow sensing that she might not be welcome. 

Sansa, who’s stunned gaze had been taking in the figures of her long lost family members now standing before her, turned toward her mother when Catelyn whispered her name. 

Catelyn saw so many emotions cross Sansa’s face. Most she recognized and understood. Love, sadness, hope, confusion. But Catelyn thought perhaps she noticed her daughter holding back feelings of fear and guilt. 

“Oh my sweet girl,” Catelyn could no longer contain herself. She rushed across the room and gathered Sansa into her embrace. “I was so worried for you. You can’t know how happy and relieved I am to find you here. Back home, alive, and unharmed.” Sansa stiffened at these words and pulled away. 

“Mother. I am so happy to see you again. I don’t understand it. How are you here?” She turned her attention to the men standing behind Catelyn. “How are you all here?” 

No one moved or made any motion to reply so Sansa spoke again. “Bran, why did you return as a child when everyone else is the age they were when they died?” 

This caught Catelyn’s attention. _Had Bran lived longer than he appeared to? Had he lived to be a man grown? A King?_

Bran stepped forward. “I cannot claim to know the ways of the old magic, but I believe I was returned to the way I was before my fall; before I started becoming the three eyed raven. I no longer have the memories of our past nor the ability to see what is happening at present. Those powers have passed to the new three eyed raven. I am simply Bran once more.” 

Catelyn was having trouble making sense of Bran’s words. She felt as if she was spinning. Too much was happening at once and she suddenly feared she might swoon.

Sansa must have seen something in Catelyn’s demeanor shift because she called out for Brienne to bring a chair. Once seated, with her Ned kneeling at her side, Catelyn began to recover and soon felt she had the strength to hear more. 

“Mother, I’m sure this must be overwhelming for you. I know I am having a difficult time believing all of this is happening. Bran, I’m hoping you can help us better understand what we are experiencing. But first, mother, can I get you a drink or perhaps something to eat?”

Food and drink might help her keep her strength but Catelyn was not sure she would even be able to swallow anything at the moment, much less keep it down. 

“No, please let us continue trying to understand. Bran, if you have an explanation for why we are here, please tell us now.”

Bran moved as if to speak, but before he had the chance the door leading from the hallway suddenly opened. 

“Sansa, I —” 

The attention of everyone in the room shifted and landed squarely on the man now entering the solar. He stopped short at the sight before him, clearly losing his train of thought and now incapable of completing the sentence he had been speaking. 

Catelyn could scarce believe her eyes. The man standing before her — in her very own solar of all places — was one she had expected never to see again. He was older and his face bore considerable scarring, but there was no denying this was Jon Snow. Her husband’s bastard son and the very bane of Catelyn’s existence. _Who does he think he is walking into the Queen’s private rooms without even a knock?_ Catelyn’s rage was further exacerbated by the knowledge that this bastard son lived and not one of her and Ned’s trueborn sons had survived. 

“Jon.” Catelyn could not tell if Sansa’s tone was one of welcome or warning. She watched as Jon’s shocked expression took in each of the resurrected Starks in turn, finally landing on Sansa. 

“What is happening here?” He breathed heavily, clearly distressed to find the Starks standing in the room where he had apparently expected only Sansa to be. Again Catelyn wondered why Jon would be barging into Sansa’s room as though it was an everyday habit. 

Before anyone could answer a maester followed Jon in through the open door. It struck Catelyn that this maester was unfamiliar, but then she remembered that Maester Luwin had perished in Theon’s raid. 

The maester approached Jon with his hand outstretched. “A raven has arrived from Winter Town, My King.” 

_My King?_


	3. Sansa

Sansa could hardly breathe. 

Sensing the tension in the room, Maester Wolkan handed Jon the scroll and bowed his way out, being careful to shut the door behind him. 

Jon stared a moment at the closed door and then turned his attention to Sansa. 

“What is happening here?” He asked again. 

Sansa wished she had answers for him, but she could not say herself. It felt like mere moments ago that Brienne had approached her and quickly explained that she had received an odd message from Bran in King's Landing. The message told of old magic and an attempt to bring back the lost members of the Stark family. It beseeched Brienne to go into the godswood upon receiving the message and, if Bran’s attempts were successful she was to find the resurrected Stark family and escort them quietly into the castle. 

At first Sansa thought Brienne was playing a jest. Or perhaps Arya was the orchestrator and Brienne was simply a pawn in the game. Arya always had a fondness for playing tricks on Sansa when they were children, although Sansa has to admit that she had changed and adult Arya would never do something this potentially cruel to her sister. Ultimately, the seriousness and panic in Brienne’s eyes was what alerted Sansa to the possibility that her long dead family members may in fact be on the other side of her solar door as Brienne insisted they were. The reality of the situation was swiftly realized when Brienne escorted in both of Sansa’s parents and all three of her brothers. The five of them stood before her very much alive. Living breathing beings looking almost exactly like they did when Sansa saw them last. Mother and Robb were a little older, but that was to be expected since they died a few years after she last saw them. Father and Rickon both looked the same and Sansa felt her heart still when seeing them and remembering the last time she had seen them both. Witnessing father’s execution was just one of many memories Sansa regularly attempted to block from her mind. As was seeing little Rickon’s body riddled by arrows after the great battle to win back Winterfell. Bran, though, was the most shocking of all. When she last saw Bran, not two years ago, he had been a man grown. Unable to stand or move his legs, but still tall and filled out, his face and eyes old and wise beyond his years. Seeing him now was like looking into a happy memory, like getting a glimpse into her life before King Robert came and set the Starks on a path of death and destruction. 

Sansa was barely able to make sense of Bran’s explanation for how and why he brought back their dead family members before her own dear mother nearly fainted. Sansa switched flawlessly into the caring Queen and gracious host she was born to be and saw to her mother’s distress before seeking answers to her own questions. 

And then, perhaps the most discomforting thing of all happened. Jon came bursting through the door, already in mid-sentence, and was caught completely unawares by their family, very much alive and standing in the room as though they never left. Poor Jon. If she’d had time she would have sent word to warn him. She would have had time to think of an easier way to break the news to her family that not only was Jon a welcome part of the ruling family in Winterfell and the North, he was Sansa’s own husband and King of all Northern lands. 

Had Maester Wolkan not followed Jon in and called him “My King,” perhaps Sansa still would have found a way to break the news more subtly. _Maybe no one noticed?_ She braved a glance at the family members standing before her, and her mother seated at her side. _No, they definitely heard._

To her surprise, it was Robb who spoke first. “Jon.” He said as he moved with open arms toward Jon. “It is good to see you brother. I am glad to know you survived and found your way home.” Robb embraced Jon and patted him twice on the back before releasing him and returning to where he had been standing. 

_Please let him remain this friendly after he hears everything_ , Sansa sent a silent plea to the gods. 

It was Jon’s turn to speak. “It is good to see you too brother.” He looked at each of the Starks in turn, even her lady mother, and then said “it is good to see all of you. I do not understand what is happening or why you are here, but I am certainly not one to question being raised from the dead.” Sansa shuttered at the cryptic truth to his words. 

“There is a lot I don’t understand, and we are hoping to sort this all out soon, but answer me this Jon…” Robb seemed to have taken it upon himself to move the conversation forward, perhaps after realizing their parents and Sansa herself were all too shocked and stunned to carry the conversation. “That maester called you his King. But Bran tells us he was King up until his death quite recently. And the lady knight” he gestured toward Brienne standing in the corner looking as if she wished to be anywhere else at that moment, “referred to Sansa as the Queen. I realize much has changed since I’ve been gone, but are there now many Kings and Queens?” 

Sansa nearly laughed out loud at Robb’s question. For as absurd as the thought was, she could clearly see how and why Robb was confused. Three siblings all claiming what seemed to be the same throne, Robb’s own throne since he was the first to be named King in the North, was certainly a confusing situation. Sansa knew she needed to set straight the confusion everyone was obviously feeling, but she hadn’t the faintest clue where to begin. 

“It’s not that simple Robb. Bran was indeed King, but not King in the North. He was King of Westeros, but the North has been independent for nearly five years now. Jon and I rule the North together.” 

She hoped to leave it at that for now. 

“You and…” Sansa heard her mother’s sharp intake of breath and confused words as she looked back and forth between Jon and Sansa. 

Sansa felt heartbroken and angry that even now, after all this time and everything they’d been through, her mother still could not bring herself to say Jon’s name. As if sensing her thoughts, Jon’s eyes caught Sansa’s and pleaded with her for understanding. How this man could be so good and forgiving, Sansa would never know. But he was right. Now was not the time. And besides, there was no way her mother could know of all they’d been through. They must get on with the explanations if they hoped to reach an understanding soon. 

Before she allowed the conversation to continue she needed to know what the scroll the maester had delivered said. If it was the message they were expecting to receive, they may be better off delaying the conversation for another hour. 

“Jon, what did the message say?” She asked, causing Jon to remember the scroll in his hand. He nodded to her and opened the scroll to read it. 

“It’s as we expected. The party from the Stormlands has reached Winter Town and will be arriving at Winterfell shortly.”

Sansa turned her attention to Brienne. “Ser Brienne, can you please see to it that their rooms are made up, and ask that additional rooms be readied for the rest of my family. When the party arrives please let me know immediately. And if you could have food and drink sent up in the meantime I’m sure we would all appreciate it.”

Brienne bowed low. “Yes My Queen. Right away.” 

After she left Sansa again turned to Jon. “I think it’s best we get this out of the way immediately.” 

The rest of her family, save Bran, looked amongst themselves in confusion, but Jon clearly understood what she was talking about because he slowly approached their father.


	4. Jon

Jon could hardly believe his eyes. There in front of him stood his father, looking exactly as he did the last time Jon laid eyes on him. That last day when Ned promised to explain the circumstances of his birth the next time they saw one another, only Ned died before having the chance. Executed after being summoned to the capital by a southern King, just like his brother and father before him. 

This was all happening much too fast. He was barely able to make sense of the people surrounding his wife when he entered their solar unannounced seeking Sansa’s opinion on what he could not now remember. To say he was stunned to see the three young Stark sons and their parents, living and breathing, was a drastic understatement. Clearly Bran had everything to do with this and Jon intended to be given answers straight away. But Sansa was right, they had business to attend to first. 

He eyed Ned up and down. This man who Jon spent his entire life trying to emulate. The epitome of honesty and honor. This man who was not his father but his uncle, who had lied to him and the rest of the family for years. Jon was having difficulty reconciling his love for this man who he considered his father with the knowledge that he had kept Jon from his birthright and allowed him to be ridiculed and shamed as a bastard his entire life. Jon had years to come to terms with Ned’s actions. He’d long ago forgiven Ned’s memory and allowed himself to be content with the knowledge that Ned’s actions were noble and that he had suffered greatly to protect Jon. But Jon never expected to have to face the man living and now all those old wounds were broken open and Jon found himself unsure how to react. 

Sansa must have sensed his uncertainty and hesitation. Of course she did. They were very well in tune with one another’s emotions. 

“Jon?”

He looked at her. The sympathy and love he saw in her eyes was a welcome relief and he hoped his own reflected those same emotions to her. Their gazes stayed locked in silent communication long enough that Jon realized they were likely giving themselves away too soon. Best to get the inevitable over with right away as Sansa had suggested. No need making this any more awkward and uncomfortable than I needed to be. He steeled his resolve and nodded to Sansa hoping to convey his desire to see this done quickly so he could be by her side. He needed her physical support now more than ever and he was sure she needed his too. 

He turned back to Ned. 

“I know about my mother.”

Ned’s eyes grew large and he inhaled sharply. Jon continued quickly before Ned had a chance to respond. 

“And my father.”

It was Catelyn’s turn to gasp. Jon didn’t bother looking over at her. He had little love for the woman who treated him so poorly his whole life. He would be respectful toward her for Sansa’s sake, but he personally could not care less how she felt about this situation. 

“Sansa and Bran know too. And Arya. I imagine all of Westeros knows at this point.”

Ned stood before him speechless. Jon could see shock etched deeply upon his face, but there was something else too. Relief? Fear? He imagined Ned would feel relief at no longer having to bear the burden of the knowledge of Jon’s parentage alone. The fear must have come from knowing his family, particularly his wife, knew or were about to find out to what extent he had deluded them all those years. 

“What are you going on about Jon?” Robb was clearly not content to be left in the dark, nor were Jon’s brief sentences enough to provide any real information. Jon turned to his brother. _Brother?_ Yes, Robb would always be his brother. But he deserved to know the truth. They all did. 

“My mother was Lyanna Stark...” He then faced Ned and looked him in the eye before finishing his pronouncement, “and my father was Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Shock coursed through the adult Starks. Catelyn and Robb murmured words of disbelief. Ned cast his head low and said something Jon was unable to hear. 

Sansa, obviously wishing to know what Ned had to say for himself, spoke up. “What was that father?”

Ned raised his head and looked at his daughter. Then swung his gaze toward Jon. He could see the haunted look, the regret and sadness in Ned’s eyes. 

“It is true. I am sorry I kept your parentage from you all those years. Please believe I did it for your own protection and to honor your mother’s dying wish. I may not be your true father, but I have always loved you as a son and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for allowing you to live a lie.”

Jon’s heart lurched. All those years ago when Sam told him the truth of his birth, he wished for nothing more than to hear an apology or explanation from Ned. He knew Ned had his reasons for passing Jon off as his own bastard son and never telling anyone who Jon’s actual parents were. He not only understood but was grateful for Ned’s actions. He just wished he could have found out from him, rather than learning the truth long after Ned’s own death. 

Jon stepped toward Ned. “You were forgiven long ago. I thank you, father, for the many sacrifices you made to ensure my safety.” With those words Jon reached out and embraced Ned, welcoming the arms of the man he still considered his father wrapped around his shoulders. 

Their moment of peace and understanding was not allowed to last long. 

“What is he talking about Ned? Lyanna and Rhaegar? You — you lied to me, your own wife, for all those years? Allowed me to think you unfaithful?” Jon moved away from Ned and cast his first long look at Lady Catelyn. 

She was seething with anger. But even in her fury Jon was struck by the similarities between Catelyn and Sansa. Both carried themselves with an air of authority. Physically, their features were much the same and anyone would know that Sansa was Catelyn’s daughter. But Jon knew Sansa possessed a softness that did not come from her mother. Sansa was approachable, even to those who did not know her. She exuded rightness and determination, but also compassion and kindness. Lady Catelyn always had an air of judgment and accusation about her that Sansa never had, even as a child who strived to be as much like her mother as possible. Jon wanted to feel sorry for Catelyn. Surely it couldn’t be easy to learn that her spouse kept such a significant secret from her throughout their entire marriage. But he couldn’t feel much other than irritation. The revelation of his parentage was but a minor piece of information. There was so much that needed to be discussed, so many more stories that needed to be told and information that needed to be shared. Clearly Sansa was feeling the same desire to move forward with this reunion. 

“Yes mother. We believe father was right to keep Jon’s lineage to himself. Robert would surely have had Jon killed if he knew he was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. I realize you and father have much to discuss regarding your own personal relationship, but I’m going to ask that you please wait to do that until after we have finished here.”

Jon watched as everyone in the room realized that Sansa was speaking to them not as their daughter or sister, but as their Queen. The regal tone to her words left no room for argument, and the Starks looked flustered by her seemingly uncharacteristic behavior. Jon felt only pride at Sansa’s approach. He remembered the timid young girl she used to be, and although it tore him up inside knowing all she endured to get to where she was today, he could not help but be proud of her strength and continued resolve. Gods he loved her. It was time to let the rest of the family, save Bran who already knew, know of their relationship. He needed his wife by his side and he no longer wanted to pretend that she wasn’t the most important person in his life. 

“Sansa is right.” He moved to stand next to her. “We have much to discuss and we should not let the revelation of my parentage get in our way.”

He looked at Ned and tried his best to convey his sympathy and love with his eyes if nothing else. There would be time to talk later, right now it was more important to move onto more pressing matters. “Father, I revealed your secret only to help you all make sense of our current circumstances. I am sorry to put you in such a difficult situation,” he allowed himself to look at Catelyn and found her still staring at Ned with shock and anger, “and I apologize to you too My Lady for being the bearer of this news.”

Sansa was much more impatient than he apparently, for she grabbed Jon’s hand and gave it a squeeze while saying, “What Jon is trying to say is that it was necessary for you all to understand that Jon and I are not siblings or even half siblings. We are cousins, but that is the extent of our familial relationship. We do not rule the North as brother and sister but as husband and wife.” 

It was as if the air was sucked from the room. No one moved or breathed for what seemed like an eternity. Jon was nearly as shocked as the rest of the Starks at Sansa’s blunt pronouncement. He stared at her, unable to look at any of the others in the room. 

Robb was the first to break the silence. Moving swiftly towards Jon, he exclaimed “you fucking bastard!”


	5. Robb

“Husband and wife”… It took Robb a moment to process his sister’s words. Robb was not usually one who required more than a split second to react. In fact he had always prided himself on his swift reaction time. Perhaps the sheer trauma of all that he had endured in such a short time was finally catching up to him. First being betrayed and attacked, watching his love murdered along with their unborn child, and being killed himself, only to awaken what felt like moments later in the godswood at Winterfell surrounded by his own living, breathing family. Then being taken into the castle and told that Sansa was now Queen just as Bran was King before his death. And finally, learning that Jon was not in fact Ned’s bastard son but the true Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne. Robb’s head was spinning. It was too much information to process all at once. And then to top it all off, _Sansa and Jon were wed?_ Surely he heard wrong. 

Looking about the room and seeing the shock and shame written on the faces of his family acted like a bucket of cold water being tossed on Robb’s head. Suddenly he understood. Jon, the boy who grew up beside him, who was his true brother no matter his birth, had taken their very own sister to wife. It was despicable. Unnatural and ungodly. Rage burned deep and before he really considered his actions Robb lunged toward Jon. 

He reached for his weapon and shouted “you fucking bastard!” only to find his sword no longer at his side. He used his hands instead. Reaching to grab Jon by the shoulder with one hand, Robb swung a fist at his face with the other. Jon was faster to react and dodged out of the way. _He always was the better fighter_. Remembering this added fuel to Robb’s anger. 

Behind him he could hear his mother scream out and his father move to intercept. How many of their fights had he broken up when they were kids? Too many to count surely. Before Ned could reach them Jon grabbed hold of Robb’s arm and twisted it behind him, turning Robb around and pinning him up against Jon’s chest. 

“I have no desire to fight you brother.” Jon’s voice was shaky. Good. He knows Robb is right in his anger. 

“How could you? She’s our sister. You’ve disgraced yourself and dishonored her. It’s vile! Disgusting!” Robb spat the words at Jon while struggling against him. 

“Stop it Robb. My honor does not need defending.” Sansa appeared before him, looking down on him with what Robb thought might be pity. Well perhaps pity mixed with frustration. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know what Jon and I lived through, how we suffered, what we endured to get back to one another, to reclaim Winterfell. For years we were all that was left of our family. Out of our pain and suffering and loss grew love and happiness and I will not allow you to try to shame us for taking the one good thing life offered and holding tightly to it” she cast a stern look about the room, focusing intently on their mother and father in particular. “I will not allow _any_ of you to judge us.”

Sansa’s speech left Robb deflated. He was emotionally drained. Too much was happening too fast. Jon must have felt the fight leave his body for he released his hold on Robb and backed away, taking Sansa by the arm alongside him. 

Robb chanced a look at his mother. Surely she would be as appalled as he was by Sansa and Jon’s apparent relationship. He found her looking dazed. Pale and staring off into some unknown void. She was frozen still, in fact she did not even appear to be breathing. 

“Mother?” Robb rushed to her side. “Mother are you unwell?” 

Alerted to his wife’s condition, Ned joined Robb at Catelyn’s side. “Catelyn? Speak to me my love.”

“I— I— I don’t— it’s just… a lot…” Robb watched as his mother tried to get her thought out. He’d never seen her like this and it frightened him. Catelyn had always been the quiet strength of the family, always knowing just what to say or do to make things right. To see his mother speechless was extremely unsettling. 

Sansa came closer. Robb noticed she did not hover about their mother as he and their father did. Her concern, like her physical presence, was much more distant.

“I understand this has been difficult for everyone and particularly for you mother. Perhaps we should let you rest and we can reconvene in a little while once we’ve all had a chance to gather our thoughts. Jon, please see if the rooms are ready.” 

Jon nodded at Sansa and left through the hallway door. 

He returned moments later and whispered something into Sansa’s ear. Clearly he was allowing her to take the lead when dealing with the family. 

“We’ve had three rooms prepared. Mother and father, you will be together as will Bran and Rickon. Robb, we’ve had a private room made up for you. I ask that you please keep to your rooms for now. The less people who know you are here the better. Let’s take an hour to process what we’ve learned and then reunite here to finish discussing what we’ve been through and how we are going to handle your return.” 

Robb nodded at his sister. Private accommodations were preferable, as was a moment of time alone. Robb had much to think about. His return to life and the revelations made this morning were only part of what was weighing on his mind. He had yet to really think about Talisa and their unborn babe. As he settled onto the bed in his appointed room, Robb allowed his grief to overwhelm him.


	6. Ned

Ned had always been a man of few words. He relied on quiet introspection, taking the time to think over his words before he spoke. Ned assumed he learned to be quiet and thoughtful while growing up with Lyanna and Brandon. His two siblings were possessed of much larger personalities than Ned himself was. They enjoyed being the center of attention, often talking over one another simply to be heard. Ned took a different path. He chose to make his words more powerful and important by offering them sparsely. He quickly discovered that because his words were rare, they were often regarded to be more meaningful. Many people assumed Ned did not have many thoughts, but this was never true. He just did often choose to share his thoughts with others.

After their first few turbulent years of marriage, Ned found himself completely taken with his lady wife. Her strength in all things allowed Ned to let down his guard knowing that Catelyn would be there to help and support him no matter the circumstances. He slowly began to open himself up to his wife, and over time she became the only other person, excepting perhaps his brother Benjen on his rare visits south, with whom Ned regularly shared his innermost thoughts. 

Ned knew how Catelyn felt about Jon. He wouldn’t have expected less from a young woman of noble birth. Having her new husband return from war with his bastard son was not the way any young lady would wish to start a marriage. At the time, Ned barely knew Catelyn. She was intended to be Brandon’s wife and Ned himself had never even met her prior to their wedding day. He did his duty that evening and consummated the marriage. Their union was hurried and rather impersonal. A mere formality to legitimize the marriage before Ned went south with Robert to fight in the rebellion and avenge his sister’s honor. He left the day after their wedding and did not see her again for over a year. By the time he returned his life had changed irrevocably.

Ned loved his sister. He did not hesitate to do as she asked and protect her new babe. He and Lyanna both knew Robert well enough to fear what he would do to the child if he learned of his existence. Ned was willing to sacrifice his honor to protect Jon by claiming him as his own. He regretted that Catelyn would treat the child unkindly, but he could think of no other way. 

Years later, after his relationship with Catelyn had matured into one of unending mutual love and respect, he wondered if perhaps he had done both Jon and Catelyn a disservice by not sharing his secret with her before her hatred of the boy took root. But no. He could not have known then that she was to be trusted. And how was he to break the news to her after years of marriage that he had been lying the entire time? Ned was a man of few words. He never quite found the ones he needed to tell Catelyn the truth of Jon’s birth. And then it was too late. 

He’d meant what he said to Jon as they parted ways on the Kingsroad that fateful day, Ned going south to serve as Hand of the King, and Jon going north to pledge his life to the Night's Watch. He had every intention of telling Jon about his mother the next time they saw one another. Ned couldn’t have known that would be the last time he looked upon the boy. Or at least that’s what he told himself many times those last few weeks while rotting in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep and ruminating on his many regrets. 

Of course it wasn’t the last time he saw Jon, was it? All these years later, resurrected from the dead, Ned was being given a second chance. When Jon walked into the room earlier that morning Ned’s heart stopped beating for a moment. He had always had a special place in his heart for the boy. But he was a boy no longer. Jon had grown into a strong young man, one who had clearly met with many ills over the past years if the scars on his face and weariness in his eyes were to be believed. Not for the first time since waking that morning Ned wondered what had become of his family, of his dear children, after his death. He feared the answer to his question might be more than he could handle. 

The fact that Jon and Sansa, the two of his children least alike and least likely to be found in one another’s company, had ended up wed was proof to Ned that they had lived through some gravely life-altering events. Sansa’s announcement had caught Ned by surprise. As much as he loved his daughter, Ned wasn’t blind to her treatment of Jon when they were children. He knew Sansa took after her mother and followed her lead in all things, including treating Jon with coldness and disregard. As… strange… as it will be to see Sansa married to Jon, Ned had to admit that he was happy to learn that they formed a strong bond in their adulthood, regardless of the romantic nature of it. 

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” 

Catelyn’s words pulled him back into the present moment. He had been sitting on the bed in the chamber assigned to them, thinking through all that had happened since he awoke. From the dead. He could hardly believe this was real life. _Perhaps it wasn’t? No. The shock and surprise on Sansa and Jon’s faces was proof enough._

“I’m sorry my love. I was lost in thought.” Ned had always been a man of few words. 

Ned sighed and looked at his wife. She truly was his love. They shared a love like nothing Ned could have dreamed of when he was young. When he first agreed to marry his dead brother’s betrothed he assumed theirs would be a loveless marriage. One that bound two great houses, but not the hearts of the two individuals most closely involved. They were fortunate to have love develop between them. Most married couples aren’t so lucky. And he had failed her. Their relationship was built upon a lie. He should have told her of Jon’s parentage from the beginning. He should have trusted her to keep his secret and protect his nephew. But he didn’t. He allowed her to be shamed, to shame Jon in turn. He had failed all of them. What was he supposed to say?

“Catelyn, I… I don’t know what to say. I am sorry I did not confide in you the secret of Jon’s birth. When I first returned from the south I felt I did not know you well enough to trust you; that you did not know me well enough to bear the burden of treason. So I lied. And by the time I loved you and trusted you with my life, I did not want to break that trust by telling you the truth. I know there are no good excuses for my actions, but I ask your forgiveness nonetheless. I was wrong and if I could do it over again I would.”

Catelyn looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Gods Ned. This is all too much. I believe you had your reasons to keep such a secret from me. And I know you have your regrets, but… I just— I don’t know what to say. It feels like hours ago I was toasting to our son the King — _Robb_ — and now I wake to find years have passed since my death. Your death. Robb and Rickon. Bran. Our family was destroyed, broken down piece by piece. Did not you see Sansa? Did you look at her, truly look at her? It’s as if she’s another person. What became of my sweet little girl? And married to Jon of all people! I can barely stomach the idea. And you’ll notice there was no mention of Arya! I assume she’s living else she would have been returned with the rest of us. But where is she? Why has no one so much as mentioned her?” 

Catelyn burst into tears. Ned moved to comfort her but she held up her arms and did not allow him to get close. What was he to say? What was he to do? He felt so far out of his element. Ned was once a great leader and now he could not even provide the basic of comforts to his wife. Instead of doing anything he just sat there and allowed his heart to break while Catelyn cried.


	7. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just a quick note at the beginning of this chapter to let you all know where I’m at with this story. First off — thank you, thank you, thank you! Your many comments, kudos, and general enthusiasm have been amazing. My love light is truly shining bright! I just hope I can live up to your expectations lol. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to respond to all of your comments. I do my best to answer direct questions, but I fear I just don’t have much extra time in my day to reply to everyone. However I am absolutely reading them and taking note of the direction you’d like to see this heading, so keep them coming!
> 
> I’m almost caught up with posting the chapters I’ve written so far. I have 2-3 more after this one that I’ll get up over the next few days, but things might temporarily slow down after that. I’m a teacher and I have 3 kids of my own, so most of my days are spent helping my kids with distance learning while also trying to keep my students on track, and my evenings are spent adapting curriculum to our new online platform. You don’t even want to see my zoom calls spreadsheet lol. These are crazy times! The good news is my school ends after next week and then I’ll be free to do a lot more writing. I am committed to finishing this story. 
> 
> And finally, for those of you who keep asking… Arya is coming very soon, I promise!

Sansa returned to her bedchamber after seeing that her family — _her family_ — were settled in their rooms. She was relieved to find Jon waiting there for her. She rushed to him and fell sobbing into his waiting arms. 

“Hush,” Jon soothed as he ran a comforting hand down the length of her hair. 

“What is happening Jon? How can this be? Did Bran really find some old magic to help him bring back our family? Why would he do such a thing?”

“I don’t know love. I suppose he had his reason. We’ll have to ask him.”

Sansa pulled away and looked into Jon’s eyes. She knew she must look a mess, with tears wetting her face and those awful red splotches that always mar her cheeks when she gets emotional. She also knew that Jon wouldn’t care. He loves her no matter what she looks like. Having to explain their love, indeed their marriage, to her parents and brothers was something she never expected to have to do. It was awkward and slightly embarrassing, yet somehow it was also a relief. She was grateful to have the chance to share her life with people whom she loved and lost. She just hoped that she did not come across as too defensive in her revelation. She is defensive of Jon, and rightly so. He is her protector as she is his. But she does not want her family to think she has any sense of shame about her love for Jon. She meant what she said to Robb. She and Jon survived too many traumas to apologize for taking whatever happiness life threw at them, regardless of how other people — even their own family members — felt about their union.

Sansa recalls telling Arya and Bran of her budding relationship with Jon. She experienced similar feelings then as she is now. Fear that her family would shun them and think their love impure. She was wrong to worry. Bran already knew, and expressed little emotion anyway. And Arya, knowing exactly what both Sansa and Jon had lived through, was nothing but happy at learning of their happiness together. 

Sansa supposed she would have to tell the rest of her family about what they missed these last many years. It would be a long and difficult conversation. She was glad she suggested they take a rest. Besides, their guests should be arriving soon, and she thought it best to wait and include them too. 

But first, she would take this moment to be with her husband. To enjoy a quiet moment and gather her strength from him. 

“I love you Jon.” 

He looked at her with knowing eyes. Always knowing. He knew she had fears. Her family’s return was not in Sansa’s plan, and Sansa was nothing if not a planner. She sought never to be caught unawares. To always be multiple steps ahead of everyone else around her. Experience had taught her that. Experience and a few choice people she met along the way, people whose names she no longer said or even thought. Having her long dead family arrive at her doorstep this morning had shaken Sansa’s world much more than she let on, even to herself. But Jon knew. Jon always knows. 

He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than he normally would. Then he rested his forehead against hers and looked her deeply in the eyes. All of his love shined brightly in his gaze and Sansa knew he would do whatever it took to keep her safe, to see her through this trying time, just as he had supported her through so much else over the years. 

“I love you too,” he whispered. 

A moment later there was a knock at the door. Brienne let herself in and looked between her King and Queen. “The party has arrived from Winter Town.”


	8. Arya

Arya dismounted and looked around the courtyard. No matter where her travels took her nor wherever she resided, Winterfell would always be her true home. Here she felt most at ease, most like the Arya she used to be and strived to be again. It sometimes seems as if she’d spent half her life desperately trying to return to Winterfell. And though she’s ridden back through these gates a handful of times since she first left with her father and sister all those years ago, something always pushes her away again. _Usually myself_ , she thought with an internal laugh. 

The last time Arya visited was well over a year ago. Closer now to two years. She was glad to see that in that time more repairs had been made to the castle. It looked almost complete. If she hadn’t seen the destruction with her own eyes, Arya herself might not know the extent of the damage these old walls endured. Looking at the place now only the slight discoloration of new stones hinted at what had occurred during the Long Night and the raids prior. Arya shuddered slightly. She preferred not to think about that night or the events that followed. It was hard not to, especially when she found herself back within these walls. 

She chose to distract herself with domestic duties instead. It was something she found herself doing often these days. Odd as it was, she found a certain calm steadiness in the mundane, seemingly insignificant tasks of daily life. She handed the reins of her horse to a stable boy and proceeded to unhook the saddle bag that carried her more important possessions. The rest of the party’s belongings and supplies were coming soon. Impatient as always, Arya had ridden ahead. After she unpacked her horse, Arya walked a few paces behind her to where Gendry’s horse stood waiting. She petted the soft brown hair gently while looking up at her husband. She shuddered inwardly at that word. It was much too domestic for her tastes. A few domestic tasks here and there was one thing; going about saying things like “my husband” was quite another. But she did it. If not for his sake (it was of course) but for the sake of the small person she loved more fiercely than she could have ever imagined loving someone. She looked at him now, sitting there atop the horse, his father’s arms wrapped securely about his waist. This child that she never wanted but whose life changed hers in so many ways. Who forced his way into her heart and who she knew with complete certainty she would never wish to live without. 

“Hi Eddon. Was it a fun ride up there with father?”

Little Eddon smiled down at her. “Yes! I want to ride with father every time! May I? Please?” 

Arya couldn’t help but smile up at him. “We’ll see. But for now come on down and let’s go find Auntie and Uncle, alright?” He stretched his arms down toward her and Arya grabbed him about the waist and lifted him off the horse. She set him down on the ground just as Gendry swung his leg over and hopped down next to her. 

“It’s always so cold here,” he remarked with an exaggerated shudder. “Tell me again how you can stand it?” Gendry had laughter in his eyes and his tone was one of jest. Two could play at that game. 

“Anything is better than the unending dampness of your Stormlands.” 

Gendry laughed and threw his arm around her shoulder, “ _Our_ Stormlands my dear wife. _Our_ Stormlands.”

Arya rolled her eyes at him. But it was true. Gendry was now Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. After finding herself with child following their encounter in the hours before the Long Night, Arya cancelled her plans to sail around the world and instead set sail for Storm’s End. There she found Gendry and proposed marriage. Her only condition was that she would not tolerate being called “My Lady.” She gave up correcting other people years ago, but Gendry kept his promise and has not called her “lady” even once. 

Arya again looked around. “I wonder where everyone is?”

“Perhaps they didn’t get our raven.”

Just then Arya saw her sister rushing toward her, Jon not far behind. Little Eddon broke free of his parents and ran toward Sansa and Jon. 

“Auntie Sansa! Uncle Jon! We are here!”

Arya often wondered where her son came from. He was so talkative and loved being surrounded by people. If he didn’t look exactly like his father and if he had not come out of her own body, Arya might wonder if he was their child at all. Their personalities were so different. 

Sansa swooped down and picked Eddon up. She swung him around and then brought him close for a hug. 

“My little Eddon!” She leaned back to have a look at him. “Could this really be you? You’re much too big to be my nephew. You must be someone else!”

“It is me Auntie! I’ve grown up! I’m nearly as big as father now!”

The four adults had a good laugh. Arya embraced Jon and Gendry offered his hand and received a strong pat on the back. “It’s good to see you again,” there was genuine happiness in Jon’s words.

“It’s good to be home.”

Sansa and Jon exchanged a look. Arya, always alert to the subtle changes in behavior of the people around her, noticed that something was amiss. Sansa and Jon were acting as if everything was fine, but Arya knew it to be just that, an act. 

“What is it?” She asked. “Don’t even think about lying to me. I know something is going on. Tell me what it is.”

Sansa and Jon exchanged another look and Sansa set Eddon on his feet. She cleared her throat before speaking to the boy, “Eddon, let’s get you inside. Marta will take good care of you while your mother and father get settled. What do you say, hmm?” 

Arya looked at Jon, waiting for an answer. He too cleared his throat before speaking. “You’re right Arya, something has come up. Why don’t you two come to our solar and we’ll explain. We can get Eddon set up in the nursery on our way. Marta is expecting him.”

It was Arya’s turn to share a glance with her spouse. Something strange was happening here and Arya suspected she was not going to like what Jon and Sansa had to say. Nevertheless she followed dutifully behind them as they led the way through the main parts of the castle and into the private family quarters. Sansa took Eddon to the nursery to be cared for by Marta and Jon continued on with Arya and Gendry. They settled themselves in Sansa and Jon’s solar and once Sansa arrived Arya demanded to hear what they had to say. 

“It’s Bran.” Arya could hear the faint shaking to Sansa’s voice as she spoke. “He has been experimenting with old magic…”

Arya held her breath, waiting for Sansa to continue. 

“Arya, he’s brought them back. All of them. Father and mother, Robb and Rickon. Himself as he was before the fall. They arrived this morning. Our family is here Arya, they’re alive again.”


	9. Rickon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of quick chapters to catch up with the rest of the Stark family...

Rickon stared at the ceiling wishing he was still dead. Why had Bran brought him back to this terrible life? Did he think he wanted to see these people who called themselves family? They weren’t his family. Osha and Shaggydog were the only family that mattered and they weren’t brought back. 

Well, he was pleased to see Jon. And Sansa he supposed. He saw what Jon did for him. Risked himself to play Ramsay’s stupid game. Put himself in danger to try to save him. Rickon saw the determination on Jon’s face, and then the utter horror when he realized that he was too late. That Ramsay rigged the game so that only he would win. Rickon had hoped to get to his brother in time. He would have been happy to be reunited with him and with his sister Sansa. But once he realized that wasn’t going to happen, he welcomed his death. Life was never easy, never good. Osha and Shaggydog were the only things he held dear in life, and once Ramsay killed them both, Rickon was content to be done living as well. He didn’t really want to go on without them anyway. 

But then he woke up and saw his _other_ family. His old family. The ones who abandoned him and forgot him when he needed them most. He barely recognized father. Ned had left when Rickon was so young, and they had never been particularly close. Not like he was with mother and his siblings. Rickon mourned his father's death of course. Dreamed about it when it happened even. Despite his young age, Rickon understood that his father’s execution by the King was a bad thing. Bad for his father and bad for their family. But he did not ever remember missing his father or yearning for his return. 

His mother on the other hand, he missed her terribly. She was the first to abandon him, even before the others left home. After Bran’s fall she stopped caring about Rickon. All she wanted to do was sit next to Bran’s bedside and cry. And then one day she left and never returned. 

By then most everyone else had left too, except Robb. Rickon was so fearful that Robb would be the next to abandon him that he tried to never let him out of his sight. Oh he knew that Robb often felt irritated having Rickon follow him around everywhere, but it was all he could think to do to keep his big brother in sight. He used to have a recurring nightmare that he was following Robb through one of the passages in the castle and Robb rounded a corner ahead of him and disappeared. Rickon would search all over and call out for him, but it was no use. Robb was gone. He left for real shortly after those dreams began. 

One by one each member of his family abandoned him. His big brother Jon, whom he idolized despite sensing that it made his mother unhappy, left for a place called the Wall. His sisters, Sansa who was like a second mother to him, and Arya who was his best source of entertainment, left the same day as his father. 

The only person who ever returned was Theon. Rickon remembered being so happy seeing Theon and his men ride up the road toward Winterfell, flying their kraken sigil. He thought for sure Theon had come to take Rickon to be with Robb. His heart soared at the thought that Robb hadn’t forgotten him after all, and neither had Theon. Of course it quickly became apparent that Theon had not come as a savior but as a conqueror. 

In the process of fleeing Theon and his men, Rickon lost two of his trusted adults for good. Ser Rodrick and Maester Luwin had loved Rickon. But they could no longer protect him. 

By the time Bran sent Rickon and Osha away, Rickon’s heart had hardened. He stopped longing for his family and began to accept that Osha and Shaggydog were his real, true family. The only ones who consistently remained by his side, who loved and protected him. 

Rickon slowly started to become happy again. To allow himself to love and to be loved. Their life was simple but good. And then one day it all came crashing down around him. They were captured and brought to that evil man Ramsay. Rickon had to hear terrible stories about the vile things Ramsay did to his sister Sansa. He was made to watch as Ramsay let his dogs eat Osha’s body after he killed her. And Ramsay was to blame for Shaggydog’s death too. His sweet pup, his ever-present protector, his last link to Winterfell and the Stark family, was gone. Rickon himself died not long after that. A welcome relief from a no-good life. 

But now here he was. Alive again and back in Winterfell with his old family. They all hugged him and cried out his name as though they cared. As though they hadn’t abandoned him and forgotten about him when they were alive. He didn’t want to be back and he certainly didn’t want to be back with _them_. He hated them. Rickon rolled over and faced the wall. Maybe he would fall asleep and discover that all of this had been one long terrible dream.


	10. Bran

Bran watched Rickon blow out an exasperated breath and turn to face the wall. For the first time since waking Bran regretted not being able to know what someone was thinking. He had lost that ability when he reverted back to his old self. Now that he was no longer the three eyed raven, Bran’s brain felt clear and his mind unhindered for the first time since he was a young boy. The overwhelming weight of omniscience was an exhausting burden to bear. Bran was grateful to be given this second chance at life and pleased he could offer it to his family as well. 

But Bran was beginning to suspect that Rickon did not appreciate the gift Bran had given him. Bran knew what Rickon had been though. They experienced much of it together of course, but Bran also knew what became of Rickon after they parted ways before reaching the Wall. He knew Rickon’s feelings of hopelessness and abandonment, and he knew the circumstances surrounding his death at the hands of Ramsay Bolton. 

Bran may not be able to know Rickon’s intimate thoughts anymore, but he could guess what the boy was thinking. He would have to spend some extra time ensuring that Rickon felt a sense of belonging. And he’d make sure the others did so too. Bran had gone through too much effort to reunite his family to have it fail on him now. 

If he was being honest with himself, Bran was surprised his endeavors worked in the first place. The magic he used was untested. Bran had to reach far back in the memories to even find mention of a method that might be used to bring people back from death. There were many accounts of men and women being returned immediately after death, usually with the help of a Red Priest or Priestess. Jon himself was resurrected in this way shortly after he died at Castle Black. But Bran could find no evidence that anyone had successfully brought back people who had been long dead. Still, he chose to try. 

The biggest risk was that Bran might die and not be returned. He was willing to accept that risk. He had spent the past years restoring peace and prosperity to Westeros and aiding the independent kingdoms of the North and the Iron Islands. Bran had been a good King. He was well loved by his people. But the double burden of ruling the kingdom and being all-knowing was more than any one person should have to handle. He was ready to move on. Bran was prepared to die if that was meant to be. But he hoped the old magic would work and he was greatly relieved when he awoke in the godswood with Rickon by his side. 

What Bran neglected to consider was how his family, both the living and the dead, might react to the situation. He has assumed everyone would be happy. His living family would be happy to have their dead relatives returned, and the dead would be happy for a second chance at life. He realized now that was naive. 

Bran understood that secrets would need to be revealed and past histories would need to be told, but he did not realize what an emotional undertaking that would be. Perhaps he had been too long removed from his humanity. Perhaps he had spent too many years detached from other people, absent of personal relationships, to truly remember what it was like to live and love and feel. 

Bran again looked at Rickon and sent a silent plea to the Gods to help make this right with his brother and his whole family. His only wish was that his family could be happy together again. _Please_ , he prayed.


	11. Catelyn

“You must know I would have never agreed to attend the wedding if I had _any_ indication of Walder’s intentions,” Catelyn pleaded with Ned for understanding. 

She had just finished telling him everything that had happened from the time Jaime Lannister attacked Ned and his men on the streets of King’s Landing until that fateful evening at the Frey’s when she and Robb were taken unawares and lost their lives. 

Ned was not looking at her. He was staring into the fireplace, seemingly absorbed by the dancing of the flames. Catelyn understood Ned well enough to know he had heard every word she said and was now ruminating on the information. Ned may be a man of few words, but he had many thoughts. 

Finally he spoke. “I know you would never lead our son or his men into harm.”

Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief. She had not expected that he would be cross with her, nor that he would judge her unfairly for her actions. Still, it was a comfort to know that he believed she did the best she could with the circumstances given to her. 

“I am truly sorry for the things that happened to you and to our children as a result of my actions. I should not have been so quick to speak out against Joffrey and Cersei. I should not have trusted Littlefinger nor anyone else in King’s Landing. It was because of me and my foolishness that Robb went to war, that our daughters were held hostage by the Lannisters. We don’t even really know what became of them after they were left to fend for themselves.”

“Oh Ned. Please don’t blame yourself.” Catelyn’s heart broke to hear her husband speak so ill of himself. “You only did what you knew to be the right and honorable thing. It wasn’t your fault that evil people took advantage of your righteousness.”

Ned sighed deeply, but did not respond. Catelyn continued, “And we know what happened to the girls. Lady Brienne must have succeeded in escorting Jaime Lannister back to King’s Landing and securing our daughter’s release. There is no other explanation for Brienne to be here, still serving Sansa after all these years.” 

Ned looked at her with a small, sad smile that seemed to say he wished she was right, but believed otherwise. 

“I hope that is what happened. But I fear that their story may not have been as simple as that. Did you not hear Sansa and Jon speak of the terrible things they lived through?”

Catelyn preferred not to think about her daughter being married to that boy. She had successfully blocked it from her mind during the last hour. Instead, she and Ned had exchanged their stories of the time they spent apart. Ned told her of the chaos after Robert’s passing, his fear for his daughters and his men. He told her of his plan to escape back to Winterfell, and how he was thwarted by Littlefinger. He told her of his last days rotting away in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. Lord Varys had arranged for him to plead guilty and be allowed to take the black and live out his days at the Wall. Then he told her the details of his public trial, how Joffrey went back on his word and Sansa pleaded for his life to be spared.

Catelyn listened to Ned’s tale and then told him of her own. Of Robb being named King in the North and fighting bravely to avenge his father’s death. She explained how she had met Brienne, and later entrusted her to take the freed Jaime Lannister as a trade for her daughters. She told him her despair at losing Bran and Rickon to that traitor Theon Greyjoy. She told him of Talisa and the negotiations she had to make with Walder Frey. And finally she told him of their betrayal and murder. 

It was emotionally draining to hear Ned’s tale and to tell her own. She was still upset, achingly so, that her sweet innocent Sansa had been lured into an unnatural relationship with Jon. Of all people why did it have to be him? Catelyn felt as if the gods were mocking her. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Ned spoke, “I know you don’t care for Jon, but it was very apparent to me that Sansa does. And she made it clear that she won’t tolerate any of us speaking negatively about him or their relationship. I believe the wisest course of action would be for you to accept their marriage, and perhaps try to find it in yourself to… if not care for the boy, at least recognize that he cares for Sansa and that he was an innocent player in the circumstances of his life. He’s always been a good boy, despite what you may have thought. Perhaps now is your chance to get to know him a little better. I think you’ll find that he’s worthy of our daughter.” Ned said these words lightly, but Catelyn did not mistake his meaning. He is the one who would not tolerate her mistreatment of Jon any longer. Catelyn vowed to keep her opinions to herself for the time being. She would not have a confidant in Ned, at least not where the subject of his nephew was concerned. 

Before she could reply to Ned, there was a knock at the door. Catelyn got up to open it and found Sansa on the other side. Once again her heart skipped a beat upon laying eyes on her beautiful girl. She was so grown up. Catelyn very much looked forward to knowing what her daughter had experienced in all the years since she last saw her. “Sansa,” Catelyn greeted her and opened the door wider. “Your father and I are feeling much more rested. Is it time for us to continue our conversation from earlier?”

Sansa looked between Catelyn and Ned. She smiled softly, a welcome sight for Catelyn’s weary eyes. 

“Yes mother. I believe it’s time we all told our tales. But first, there’s someone here who wants to see you again. Arya has just arrived.”

_Arya?_ Catelyn was overcome with relief and happiness. She truly would have her family back together now. Her whole family. Arya was here.


	12. Arya

Arya had seen many strange things in her life. She’d experienced events and situations, met people and visited places that would make any of Old Nan’s stories seem like tales of romance and whimsy. But nothing could have prepared her for seeing her dead family members walk through the door to Sansa’s solar as if they had never left, never _died_. 

After Sansa and Jon broke the news to Arya and Gendry about Bran’s successful foray into old magic, Sansa left to retrieve their family and bring them back to see Arya. And, according to Jon, they were all expecting to share their life stories with one another. Arya cringed at the thought. 

She’d had a moment of panic after Sansa left and nearly got up to leave herself but Gendry must have noticed the wildness in her eyes and her desire to escape because he placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “You can do this Arry. When it’s all said and done I’ll take you out to the yard for some sparring. We’ll get all this restlessness out of you then. But for now, stay and see your family. I’ll be right here the whole time if you need me.” And of course his words helped to calm her. The big oaf always knew just what to do. She hated him for it. And she supposed she loved him for it too. _Stupid_. 

Nothing, not even Gendry’s comforting words or his hand holding tight to hers, could have prepared her for the moment Sansa opened the solar door and her family walked into the room. There they all were. Very much alive and looking as if nothing bad had ever happened to them. Mother and Robb looked slightly older than the last time she’d seen them alive. But not different enough that she wouldn’t have recognized them. 

A memory of Grey Wind’s head sewn to Robb’s body started to creep into her mind but Arya slashed it away quickly. Now was not the time to lose focus. 

She turned her attention to father. Gods, he looked exactly the same as he did that day at the Sept of Baylor. She vividly recalled watching from the statue while Joffrey played his evil games. Fear and hatred overtook her whole body that day, so much so that it took years to recover. If she was being honest with herself, she still was not fully recovered. The fear and hatred had been etched upon her very soul and despite how she chose to live her life now, they would always be a part of her. That single traumatic event set her on a path that changed her life in ways no one could have predicted and, she was sure, no one in this room would have wanted. She felt Gendry squeeze her hand. She supposed her path wasn’t all bad, it did lead her to Gendry and through him to sweet little Eddon. 

Arya inhaled deeply and looked on from her father. Little Rickon had grown tall in the years he lived alone with his wolf and the wildling woman. She knew his story and expected that he would look much as he did now. Even from across the room Arya could sense Rickon’s own fear and hatred. Fear of abandonment and hatred of the very people who surrounded him. She couldn’t blame him. She of all people understood. 

Arya turned her attention to Bran next. Of all the people who walked into the room Bran was the only one who truly took her by surprise. The rest looked as she expected, and even though Jon warned her that Bran had returned to the age he was before his fall from the tower, she was not prepared to see him looking so young and vulnerable. She was not prepared to see him standing and walking. But she was most unprepared for the alertness, the humanness, that she saw on his face. For so many years she had known Bran to be an expressionless void. His eyes were vacant and his words dreamy and detached. She had mourned the loss of her brother while he still lived, because the Bran she found when she returned home to Winterfell that first time was not her brother. That strange man was the three eyed raven and the differences were many. Now however, Arya found herself looking upon the very same boy who she knew and loved all those years ago. Bran, who was closest in age to Arya herself and who shared a similar sense of adventure, had been her best playmate as a child. He wasn’t her favorite sibling, that was always Jon. But Bran was the one she explored the castle grounds with, the one who was always willing to go on a new adventure, the one she could fight with as siblings do. Seeing him returned to his former self, knowing that he now had full use of his body again, and that he was no longer hindered by the powers of the three eyed raven, made Arya speechless with joy. 

Apparently while she was taking a few moments to survey her long lost family members, they were doing the same with her. She was so caught up in her thoughts about Bran that she very nearly got ambushed by her own mother. Arya, who never let her guard down for even a moment, suddenly felt a pair of arms encircle her body and at the same time Gendry’s hand fell away as he stepped aside. 

“Oh Arya,” her mother breathed, squeezing her tight. “I am so thankful you’re alive and well.”

Arya, uncomfortable with such physical displays of affection, quickly extracted herself from her mother's embrace. She stepped back a few paces, closer to where Gendry now stood. She tried not to see the hurt written on her mother’s face. Arya didn’t necessarily want to hurt her mother, she just wasn’t ready for such closeness. Not yet. 

“Mother…” Arya didn’t know what to say, there was so much she had wanted to tell her mother over the years. How scared she was to be all alone in the world. How desperate she was to find her family and return to her home. And more recently, she wished her mother was there to support her and guide her through her own motherhood. She thought perhaps that was the yearning she felt most deeply, the desire for motherly advice and wisdom while birthing and rearing her own child. But foremost in her mind at this moment was an apology. One she long wished she could give in person. “Mother, I’m so sorry that I did not get there sooner. I tried. I was so close. I know if only we had arrived an hour earlier I could have done something, helped prevent your death,” she looked to Robb, “and yours Robb.” Turning back to her mother she continued on, “You must know that the first thing I did when I returned to Westeros was avenge you. The Frey’s are no more.” 

The look of confusion and horror on her mother’s face made Arya realize that perhaps she had said too much. Or maybe she hadn’t said it clearly enough? Her suspicions were confirmed when Sansa spoke. 

“Arya, perhaps we should slow down a bit. Take a moment to become reacquainted before explaining all that happened to us since our loved ones left.”

Ever the regal diplomat, Arya had to admit that Sansa was right. She needed to slow down. Say hello to everyone first. Remember her niceties. All the things a proper lady would know. Gods she hated never knowing the right way to handle a situation, always messing things up. Arya took a deep breath and tried again. 

“You’re right of course Sansa.” She turned back to her mother, reached out and grabbed her hand, gave it a light squeeze. “I am so happy you’ve returned mother. That all of you have returned.” She glanced around the room at her family and knew her words to be true. “I’ve missed you all very much.”

And then, before she embarrassed herself and everyone else by allowing the tears that were building behind her eyes to fall, she shut her mouth and stepped away. 

She caught a look on her father’s face that seemed to say that he recognized that this was an emotionally difficult moment for her so he would give her the time she needed to gather her strength before he let her know just how much he loved and missed her. Then his eyes swung to Gendry standing next to her. _That’s right_ , she thought. _They’ve met before_. She turned around to see Gendry watching only her. Unaware that he was about to become the center of the conversation. She tried to warn him but she was too late. 

Her father stepped forward. “I know you,” he said, pointing to Gendry. Poor Gendry startled. “You. You’re the boy from the smithy. Robert’s bastard. You look just like him. What are you doing here?”

Gendry sputtered. “I remember meeting you that day My Lord. And I thank you for entrusting Yoren to smuggle me out of King’s Landing. The Kingsguard found and killed all of Robert’s other bastards in the city.” Gendry stuck out his hand in welcome toward Ned. “My name is Gendry. I’m Arya’s—” 

Arya rushed to cut him off. This would be best coming from her. 

“He’s my husband. Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End.”

She heard Jon huff a laugh from somewhere to her left. Leave it to him to find this funny. _I’m sure no one was laughing when you revealed your marriage_ , Arya thought meanly. 

The look on her father's face registered shock. And maybe a bit of pleasure? Or was Arya projecting her memories onto the situation? She recalled how much Ned wanted to see her grown and wed to a suitable lord. She bristled at the knowledge she had done exactly that. Arya did not like doing what others wanted or expected. 

“Is that so?” Her father asked, looking between her and Gendry. “Well, many blessings to the two of you. Robert would be pleased. He always did want to unite our families. Gendry, my son, you’ll have to tell me the story of how you two met, and how you became legitimized. I should look forward to hearing it.”

“No actually, you probably wouldn’t. Very little of our tale is joyous.” Arya’s harsh words startled even herself. 

Clearly they were upsetting to the rest of the room too. Leave it to Arya to ruin a happy moment. At least she had Gendry to break the silence. 

“Oh Arry, it wasn’t all bad. I recall a few good times sprinkled in here and there. Remember that one time when—”

Arya punched him. “Shut it, lest you say something to embarrass yourself.” 

She knew Gendry would never embarrass them at her expense. Especially not in a moment where he knew she felt completely vulnerable. He knew exactly what he was doing, attempting to break the tension. And it worked, damn him. 

Her father chuckled at her reaction, clearly pleased that his wild girl had not been tamed by a man, especially one she called husband. Robb and Bran stared on in amusement too. Even her lady mother had a look of wonder on her face. Only Rickon remained expressionless. 

Gendry reached around her shoulder and drew her close to his side, planting a kiss on top of her head. “Never my love,” he said with a smile. 

The levity their display caused was a clear transition point in the conversation. 

Sansa spoke as the Queen she was, giving orders in a tone that was at once kind and soothing yet brooked no arguments. 

“I think it’s time to begin. As you’ll see,” she gestured to the room behind her, “I’ve had seating arranged in a circle so we can all see and hear one another. And there is a sideboard of food and drink. Please help yourselves. This may be a long process and we’ll surely need our strength.” 

With that everyone moved to settle themselves in the talking area Sansa has prepared. Arya and Gendry chose one of the two-person settees near the buffet, Jon claiming the other for himself and Sansa. Clearly he had the same desire to be next to his spouse for support.

Once seated, Sansa began. “Father, I feel confident that most of us are aware of your story. And yours mother and Robb. If you’ll allow me to start, I think it might help you all to realize what happened in the years following your deaths and to better understand the world we now live in. Please don’t think we aren’t interested in hearing your own stories, but perhaps you would be willing to wait a day or two and hear ours first?” She asked it like a question, but Arya knew it was a command. 

There was a murmuring of acceptance as Sansa settled in to tell her tale.


	13. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay in getting this out. I've been extra busy these last couple of days wrapping up my school year and celebrating my birthday. It may be another few days before I update again. I’ll need some time to put the finishing touches on the next chapter. But as for this chapter…
> 
> Well, this chapter is a doozy! It’s considerably longer than all of the other chapters and it covers a lot of ground. I really tried to not make it too much of an information dump, but there is a lot we needed to get through at this point in the story. Fair warning: I did not do any research for this chapter and I wrote completely from memory so I apologize if I got any events out of order or remembered anything inaccurately.

“There is much to tell, and I am not the only one whose story needs to be heard today. But please know that I am only going to provide the basic details of the most important parts. If anyone wishes to know more, we may discuss it at another time.” Sansa turned her attention to her parents while she said that last part. At least half of the people in the room already knew the fine details of Sansa’s story. She felt no need to get into the minutia. She knew it was important to get this early part of their reunion over with, but she had no real desire to relive everything she had experienced by going into too much detail. Her parents, she knew, would want to know more. They could wait. 

“After father died I was essentially held captive by the Lannister’s. Joffrey treated me terribly, but his mother and Sandor Clegane held him back from doing anything too damaging. Ultimately, I was saved from having to marry Joffrey by Margaery Tyrell. She proposed an alliance between their two families, one founded on their marriage. Instead, I was forced to wed Tyrion Lannister.”

“The imp?” Robb cried out in shock and disbelief. 

“Oh Sansa, I’m so sorry,” her mother was clearly distressed at this news.

“Yes, but please know that Tyrion was nothing but kind to me. He protected me from Joffrey and Cersei, and the marriage was never consummated.”

Her parents and Robb breathed a sigh of relief. Although Sansa noticed that her mother snuck a glance at Jon. Perhaps wondering if he was the first to be with Sansa in that way. _Oh mother, you’re in for quite a shock I’m afraid_. 

Sansa continued her tale, “Joffrey and Margaery were wed shortly after Tyrion and I, only Joffrey did not survive the day. Margaery’s grandmother and Petyr Baelish conspired to have Joffrey poisoned at his own wedding feast. Unfortunately, Tyrion and I were framed for the murder. Tyrion was arrested but Littlefinger spirited me away before anyone could find me.”

“Dear gods.” Her father was the one to speak this time. “Littlefinger saved you? But why?”

“I can guess” replied her mother. “Sansa please tell me you did not trust that man.”

“Unfortunately mother, I had little choice. He took me to the Eyrie, but we did not stay there long. He had other plans for me.” Sansa chose to pass over her time at the Eyrie. She would break the news of her sister’s death to her mother in a more private setting, one that would allow Catelyn to fully process the circumstances that led to Aunt Lysa’s ultimate demise. 

“By this point Roose Bolton had taken over Winterfell, but he needed some way to secure his claim to the North. That way was me. Bolton and Littlefinger arranged a marriage between me and Bolton’s bastard son, Ramsay.”

Sansa felt Jon’s hand reach over to take hers. He knew what was coming and was doing his best to provide comfort while she got through this most difficult part of her story. She looked to her husband and hoped she conveyed all the love and appreciation she felt for him. She squeezed his hand tighter and continued. 

“When Robb sent the Bolton’s to take Winterfell back from Theon and his men, Ramsay took Theon prisoner. He spent years torturing him and mutilating him.” Sansa took a shaky breath. Talking about Theon was always difficult. She missed him deeply, but took comfort in knowing he died bravely while fighting for his chosen family. 

“By the time I arrived, Theon was a changed man. He was fearful and timid, like a beaten dog. He wouldn’t even answer to the name Theon any longer but to an awful, demeaning name Ramsay chose to call him. Ramsay was an evil man. It would take more time and much more energy than I have to describe my life when I was married to him. Suffice it to say, he was brutal and cruel in his treatment of me.”

Rickon let out an angry huff and stood abruptly from his chair. Sansa watched him walk towards a far corner of the room, his footsteps heavy and his posture tense. He stared out the window. Not for the first time Sansa wondered just what Ramsay had said and done to Rickon while he held him prisoner. She supposed he must know what Ramsay did to her. Ramsay always was one to brag and gloat about his conquests. Sansa decided she would have a private conversation with Rickon later.

But now it was time to finish her tale. “After months of being forced to watch Ramsay mistreat me, something changed in Theon. It was as if he finally had something to fight for. With Theon’s help we were both able to escape. As we fled North towards the Wall, towards Jon,” she looked to her husband and smiled slightly, “we came upon Lady Brienne and her squire, Podrick. They protected us and escorted me the rest of the way to the Wall. Theon chose to go back to the Iron Islands and fight for his sister. But Brienne and Podrick saw me safely to Castle Black. To Jon.” 

Realizing she was done speaking for now, her mother stood from her seat and walked over to Sansa. She leaned down and embraced her tightly. 

“My poor girl. I am so sorry you had to endure that” her mother whispered in her ear. She kissed her on the side of her face, and then returned to her chair. 

Sansa nodded to her mother in recognition of the guilt and sadness Catelyn appeared to be exhibiting. She knows now that her mother had put herself in an uncomfortable, if not dangerous, position when she freed Jaime Lannister in an attempt to trade his life for Sansa’s own. At the time however, Sansa couldn’t help but feel abandoned by both her mother and her brother, and those feelings were not so easily swept away. There were still many wounds in her relationship with her mother, and although most had healed in the years since her mother’s death, Sansa feared the return of her family was tearing them open again. She hoped the time would come for her to accept her mother’s sympathies with open arms. But unfortunately that day had not yet arrived. 

Sansa looked at the rest of her family gathered around. Arya appeared to be barely containing her rage. Sansa knew that Arya felt some sort of misplaced guilt that she had escaped King’s Landing after their father was taken captive by the Lannisters and Sansa had not. Sansa had tried many times to disabuse Arya of this notion. She doubted anything she said to her now would change her opinion. Instead, Sansa sent a grateful look toward Gendry who had his hand on Arya’s shoulder as if to physically restrain her while he whispered something seemingly reassuring into her ear. Not for the first time Sansa thanked the gods for Gendry. She knew no one else could have such a stabilizing effect on her sister. 

Sansa looked to her father next. Rather than the anger she might expect to find on the face of a man who had just learned that his daughter had been used as a pawn by key players in the game of thrones, sold like a broodmare, raped and beaten, Sansa instead saw a look of deep misery and remorse. She knew her father to be a man of great honor, and no doubt the knowledge that his honor cost him his life and caused his daughter to be left alone with people who used and abused her was clearly not settling well. 

Rickon remained in the far corner. His anger had not left him completely, but it seemed to have lessened a little. Sansa hoped so. 

Bran, having known all of this information already, merely seemed bored. Sansa almost laughed at the look on his face for it so resembled the same look he wore for most of his adult life. 

Robb on the other hand, his rage nearly rivaled Arya’s. As if sensing that Sansa had just noticed his anger, Robb spoke. “I am sorry for all that happened to you Sansa. Please believe that I would have made an appeal for your release from the Lannisters,” he looked briefly to Arya, “and yours Arya, if I felt at all confident they would have been willing to bargain with me.”

Sansa stared back at Robb with what she could only guess was a look of stoney coldness. She wished she could believe his words as much as he himself seemed to believe them. But from what she understood Robb had been given numerous opportunities to change the course of the war so that Sansa might have been better protected. Rather than trade a high level hostage or honor a marriage agreement, Robb had made choices that were in his best interest, regardless of where that left his defenseless sister who at the time was hardly more than a child. Sansa knew Robb’s fate. She regretted that his decision to break faith with the Frey’s cost him not only his own life but those of his mother, his wife, and his unborn child. But she could not forget that his decision also left Sansa alone and vulnerable in a veritable lion’s den. She simply did not know what to say to him now. It seems he was one more person she would need to have a private conversation with once this night was over. 

An uncomfortable stillness began to settle over the group. Not ready to respond fully to Robb and not wanting her returned family to think this the end of their tale, she cleared her throat and spoke. “I appreciate your concern, but I have had many years to come to terms with what happened to me.” She addressed the room as a whole, “I realize hearing this information has been upsetting, but I fear we must continue with our tale if we are going to finish before nightfall.”

She squeezed Jon’s hand and looked at him with a mixture of apology and sympathy. She hated to have him feel like he needed to bare his soul to everyone, especially her mother, but it made the most sense for him to go next. 

“Jon, are you ready to tell your story?”

Jon visibly inhaled. She could see he was gathering his strength. He gave her a small smile before addressing the room. 

“Yes. I will try to make this brief, both in the interest of time and because not everything I experienced is relevant to the larger story.”

Sansa had learned most of the details of Jon’s time with the Night’s Watch. She could imagine the parts of his story he would be brushing over. 

“After joining the Watch I was sent north of the Wall with a raiding party. We were tasked with finding the leader of the Wildlings, a former Brother of the Night's Watch named Mance Rayder. I was given the chance to infiltrate the Wildlings. I made them believe I was a deserter and gained their trust. I did eventually return to Castle Black, but not before Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was murdered by his own men in a mutiny. I was elected to replace him and became the next Lord Commander. During my time with the Wildlings, and also once before while I was still at Castle Black, I encountered…” Jon hesitated. Sansa understood that his uncertainty came from the knowledge that her parents, Robb, and Rickon would not believe what they were about to hear. Jon had spent so many years trying to persuade people to listen and take him seriously about the white walkers. And now here he was, again trying to convince people to believe him. After everything they went through to defeat the white walkers and eliminate their threat, it just didn’t seem fair that Jon was thrust back into this position. Sansa decided to take on the task herself. 

“What Jon is trying to say is that white walkers are real. The army of the dead existed and Jon was among the first people south of the Wall to discover this information.” 

Her parents and Robb all shared a similar look of disbelief. Surprisingly it was Rickon who spoke. 

“Of course they’re real. Osha told me many stories of them. They’re the reason she came south in the first place.”

Sansa was heartened to hear her brother speak. She had assumed he wasn’t even listening. His posture and positioning across the room made it seem as if he simply didn’t care for any of the people in there nor for their conversation. 

“Yes,” Jon directed his words to where Rickon stood. “Many Wildlings risked their lives to climb the Wall in an attempt to be free of the white walkers.” 

He shifted his attention to their father. “You remember the man you executed father? The deserter from the Night’s Watch? His ramblings were true. He had seen the white walkers and it was his fear that caused him to flee south.”

Sansa watched as her father nodded his head in recognition. “I remember. He had a haunted look about him. And you’re telling me you also saw these white walkers?” 

“Yes.” Jon gestured around the room at Arya and Gendry, Bran, and Sansa herself. “We all did.”

Sansa lay her hand on Jon’s thigh. “Yes, but lest we get ahead of ourselves, Jon why don’t you finish your story?”

“Right.” Jon covered her hand with his own and continued. “After I became Lord Commander I made the decision to let the Wildlings past the Wall. I offered them shelter from the white walkers in exchange for their promise to fight on the side of the living should it come to that. Unfortunately many of my men disagreed with that decision, and a small group of them attacked and killed me for it.”

Her returned family members gasped audibly. Robb was the first to respond. “What? Are you saying they _tried_ to kill you?”

Jon looked at Robb with sympathy and understanding. “No, brother, I am saying they _did_ kill me. Stabbed me through the heart.”

Sansa shuddered. She did not like to think of all that Jon had been through, which was no easy task considering she saw the wounds for herself every night. She turned her hand over in his and gave it a tight squeeze, hoping to convey her strength. She knew this part would be hard, but she hoped that Jon’s story might help her family come to terms with their own resurrection. Truly no one could understand what they were going through like Jon could. 

“I was fortunate that a Red Priestess happened to be staying at Castle Black at the time. A few good friends of mine convinced her to use her magic to bring me back, and it worked. When I said I was not one to question being brought back from the dead, I meant it.”

Sansa watched as her parents and brothers grappled with this information. They appeared to be looking around the room as if seeking confirmation from the rest of the family that Jon’s words were indeed true. Bran provided this. 

“It is true. Indeed, the story of Jon’s resurrection, and that of a man named Beric Dondarrion — you knew him father—, provided the inspiration for my own experimentation with returned life. Having proof that it is possible to bring someone back from the dead compelled me to research the matter further. And, once I felt relatively assured that my ministrations would be successful, I attempted it. And now… here we all are.” Bran looked rather pleased with himself. Sansa was not so sure everyone else was pleased with him. Knowing how Jon had felt after he was brought back, Sansa would not be surprised if her family members were less than grateful for Bran’s meddling. 

“Well Jon, that is quite a tale.” Her father clearly did not know what to say, and just as clearly assumed that was the end of Jon’s story. She gave Jon a look, urging him to go on. 

“Yes and unfortunately it does not end there.” He cleared his throat and continued, “I was brought back shortly before Sansa arrived with Brienne and Podrick. I had been struggling to adjust to the trauma of being murdered and then brought back to life, not to mention the knowledge that my own men had seen fit to kill me for trying to do what I thought was best. I was in a very bad place when Sansa arrived,” Jon looked at her and smiled a small, private smile, “She gave me a reason to keep moving forward.” 

Sansa smiled back and then addressed her family. “I insisted Jon help me raise an army to take back Winterfell. But before we could attack we received word that…” Sansa faltered. Simply thinking of that letter from Ramsay announcing he had captured Rickon caused her heartbeat to increase rapidly. She remembered all too well the despair she felt knowing that there was nothing they would be able to do to save their brother. She chanced a glance at Rickon. He clearly knew just what Sansa was thinking. He surprised her for the second time by pushing himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and walking back to the group. He addressed everyone but looked only at her. 

“Ramsay’s men captured me. He killed Osha and Shaggydog. He sent a raven to Sansa and Jon. He read the message to me before sending it. You don’t have to feel bad Sansa. I know you would have saved me if you could have. But it was never going to be possible. Ramsay wouldn’t have let it happen.” 

He then turned his attention to Jon. “Thank you for trying Jon. You’re a good brother.” And with that he returned to his spot at the far corner of the room and resumed looking out the window. 

Sansa realized she was crying. Tears were wetting her face as she inhaled a ragged breath. She felt Jon’s arm come around her back and she leaned her head to rest gently on his shoulder. He encircled her with his other arm and planted a kiss on her hair. 

Sansa was relieved when Arya finished this part of the story for them. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes and see the anger and disappointment on her parents faces, knowing she had failed to save their son. 

“When Ramsay and Jon met on the battlefield outside these walls, Ramsay released Rickon and sent him running to Jon. He shot Rickon dead with an arrow just before he reached Jon’s side.”

Their mother cried out. Sansa could hear her father move to her mother’s side to comfort her. 

Robb sounded as if he was fighting back his own anguish when he spoke. “I’m sorry I ever trusted the Bolton’s. I hope you were the one to kill Ramsay on the battlefield that day Jon.”

Jon sighed. “We were successful in taking back Winterfell that day, but I was not the one to kill Ramsay. I left that to Sansa.”

Sansa sat up, sniffed back her tears, held her head high, and announced with determination: “I had that evil man fed to his own dogs.” Her tone was defensive, as if challenging anyone to claim her actions were inappropriate. 

Her mother groaned. Her father and Robb both gasped quietly. Rickon smirked and breathed a small laugh. “ _Good_.” He proclaimed fiercely. 

Jon got up and walked across the room to take Rickon into a quick embrace. He whispered something to the boy that Sansa could not hear. But she could imagine what was said. Jon had long held feelings of guilt from that day and she was glad that he had this opportunity to make his peace with Rickon. In this moment, Sansa was overcome with gratitude that they were all given this second chance in life. 

On his way back to the settee he was sharing with Sansa, Jon stopped to fill a goblet of wine for her. As he handed it to her and sat down, he spoke. “Once we had Winterfell back, Sansa and I began to prepare for the impending battle with the white walkers. We had discovered that a certain stone, obsidian or dragon glass, could kill white walkers. I traveled to Dragonstone to mine this rock for use in making weapons.”

Sansa interrupted. “That’s not everything Jon. First you were named King in the North.” She allowed the pride she felt to carry in her tone. She wanted to make sure her family understood that Jon was a King in his own right, not simply because he was married to a Queen. She felt it was important that they know he was chosen to lead the North on his own merits, long before Sansa became Queen herself. 

“Yes, ‘tis true,” Jon ducked his head slightly, embarrassed at Sansa’s declaration. She knows why he passed over that part in his story. He regrets bending the knee and letting down his people. But Sansa has long since forgiven him, as have the people in the North. It was time he learned to forgive himself. 

“And he did not travel to Dragonstone only to mine for dragon glass. He was summoned there by Daenerys Targaryen. Daenerys had spent years conquering lands throughout Essos. She had finally returned to take Westeros and needed an alliance with the North. She brought with her three fully grown dragons.”

Sansa watched the surprise register across her family’s faces. Her mother and Robb spoke at the same time. 

“Dragons?” The disbelief in their voices was evident. 

She looked at them both. “Yes. It was difficult for us to believe at first too. Seeing them helped.” She fought a smile as she remembered her own astonishment at seeing the dragons flying high over Winterfell. She had to admit, they were quite the impressive and amazing sight. 

“Are you saying the exiled Targaryen princess brought _dragons_ to the North? Real, living dragons?” Sansa allowed herself to feel sympathy for Robb. Despite everything he had done — and not done — when he was alive, Sansa had once loved her older brother very much. She knew he fought hard for their family’s honor and to avenge their father’s mistreatment and death. She may not have agreed with all of his decisions, and at one time she may even have hated him for some of his actions, but right now she could not help but feel sorry for him. She couldn’t imagine waking to discover that white walkers and dragons were now known to exist, that her beloved family was changed almost past the point of recognition. She sent him a small smile. 

“Yes Robb. I wish you could have been here to see it. I remember how you always wished to have a dragon when you were a small boy.”

She then addressed the rest of the family. “I’m sure you still have many questions. Our tale is almost over. Perhaps Arya or Bran would wish to share next?” 

“I will,” Bran replied.


	14. Ned

Ned listened to Bran explain how he and Rickon had fled Theon’s raid and headed north. He was surprised to learn they had met up with Howland’s children along their journey. 

He’d tried to understand when Bran talked of strange things like a man living in a tree, a three eyed raven, and traveling through time to witness events in Ned’s own past. Inexplicably Bran seemed to know the details of the day Hodor suffered the seizure that left him dim witted and essentially mute. 

Even more unnerving was Bran’s intimate knowledge of the day Jon had been born, the day Ned’s dear sister had died. He knew the exact words Lyanna had whispered, the promise she made Ned agree too. He even knew Jon’s real name. There was simply no other explanation for Bran’s knowledge than the one he was offering. 

Ned found it difficult to believe that this three eyed raven actually possessed all of the memories of every person who ever lived. Though, he supposed the idea wasn’t much more outlandish than being asked to believe that white walkers and dragons very recently roamed the North. _Or perhaps they still did?_ Ned was not sure where his children’s stories were leading.

Finally, Bran spoke of an encounter with the leader of the white walkers, a being he called the Night King. After he was marked by the Night King, Bran returned home, but he was changed. Sansa, Arya, and Jon all attested to the fact that Bran was not the same boy he once was. 

Bran answered Robb and Catelyn’s questions as best he could. It seemed neither of them could quite grasp the idea of Bran becoming all-knowing either. 

Soon it was Arya’s turn to tell her tale. Ned secretly admitted to himself that Arya’s story was the one he was most looking forward to. Ned had no reason to fear for Jon and Bran while he was still living. As far as he knew they were both safe. Even his worries for Sansa were somewhat assuaged by the knowledge that she was still in the Red Keep and very much alive. He had different concerns when it came to Sansa. He worried about what might happen to her all alone in King’s Landing, at the mercy of Cersei and her abhorrent son. Ned was saddened to learn of all that had happened to his eldest daughter following his execution. Although he was grateful she did not have to marry Joffrey, it sounded as if her marriage to Roose Bolton’s son was traumatic. Looking at Sansa now, resting her head on Jon’s shoulder, he could see the inner strength she possessed. He regretted all that she lived through but was pleased to see she had found within herself a fortitude and power he knew she possessed all along. He always knew one day his Sansa would grow into a strong and commanding woman. He was just sorry he couldn’t be there to help her along the way. 

Arya, on the other hand, was born tenacious and fierce, ready to take on the world. He feared that whatever she lived through might have broken down that part of her. Lord Varys had reported that Arya had escaped the Red Keep and was nowhere to be found. Ned worried about her those last few weeks of his life. He imagined all sorts of terrible things that might have happened to her, a child alone in the world. When he passed her standing upon the statue of Baylor that last day he breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge she was alive. He only hoped Yoren understood his message and was able to see her to safety. _But no_. Ned realized that no one, not Sansa or Jon, not Robb or Catelyn, not even the younger boys had mentioned Arya. _What became of her after that day outside the Sept?_

“I suppose it’s my turn?” Arya spoke from her place across the room. Ned allowed himself to take a long look at his youngest daughter. He would never openly admit it, but Arya was his favorite child. He admired her enthusiasm for life. He was proud of her contempt for and resistance to societal structures and her willingness to stand up for what she felt was right. It didn’t hurt that she looked and acted much like his own dear sister whom he loved and missed greatly. 

Ned turned his attention to the young man seated to Arya’s left. Gendry he was called. Robert’s bastard. Ned remembered meeting the boy and questioning him about Jon Arryn’s visit. It had struck him at the time how much Gendry looked like Robert when Robert was young. Gendry was still clearly a Baratheon but, looking at him now, Ned had to admit that he no longer resembled his father quite so much. Perhaps that’s because Robert grew fat and lazy in his adulthood, whereas Gendry was still muscular and lean. Ned wondered how Arya came to know this boy from Flea Bottom. _Had she been forced to live there too?_ He shuddered at the thought of his young daughter all alone in the worst slums of King’s Landing. 

“I have no desire to go into detail, but I will try to cover the basics.” Ned chuckled to himself. Arya never was one for stories. 

“Do you recall the man Yoren from the Night’s Watch?” This question was directed at Ned. 

“Yes. I passed him that day at the Sept of Baylor and motioned towards you standing atop the statue. Did he find you then?”

“Yes. He found me just in time and kept me from seeing the worst of it. And then he dragged me from the crowd and sliced off all of my hair with his knife.”

Besides him Catelyn gasped. 

“He did it to make me look like a boy. Well more like a boy than I already did. Yoren was leaving that day with new recruits for the Wall. He took me with him. Said he would escort me back to Winterfell. Passed me off as a boy named Arry.” Ned had noticed Gendry call her that name earlier.

“He took Gendry too, to keep the Kingsguard from finding him and murdering him along with the rest of Robert’s bastards.”

Ah yes. Now Ned remembered. He had asked Yoren to get the boy safely out of the city. It suddenly made sense that Arya and Gendry would know one another. 

“We were nearing the Riverlands when our party was attacked and Yoren and most of the men were killed. Gendry and I and a few others were taken to Harrenhal as prisoners. There Tywin Lannister discovered I was a girl. Well actually Gendry was the first to figure it out long before then.” Ned watched as Arya both smiled and rolled her eyes toward her husband. _Her husband_. That might take some time to get used to. 

“Tywin made me his cupbearer. I used to be in his council room while he was discussing you Robb.”

“Gods Arya. That was dangerous.” Robb almost sounded angry with his sister. 

“What was I to do? I was a child. I did my best to keep him from finding out who I was, but it’s not like I could just walk away.”

Gendry placed a hand on Arya’s leg and she stopped talking. Seeming to sense her frustration, Gendry took on the task of telling what happened next. 

“After Tywin left, Arya and I escaped, along with our friend Hot Pie. We spent a long time wandering around the Riverlands before the Brotherhood found us. ‘Twas there we ran into the Hound. The Brotherhood sold me to the Red Witch, the same one that brought Jon back. She meant to use me as a sacrifice to her god to help Stannis win the War of the Five Kings but I escaped and went back to my old smithy in Flea Bottom.”

Arya picked up the story. She directed her words to Catelyn. “The Hound caught me after I escaped the Brotherhood and took me to the Twins to sell me back to you and Robb. We arrived moments too late.” 

Catelyn had told Ned what happened at the Twins. How she and Robb were betrayed and murdered. Learning that Arya was nearly there too caused Ned’s heart to skip a beat. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for saving Arya that day. 

Catelyn was visibly shaken at this news. “You were there? Gods Arya, you could have been killed.”

“I’m just sorry I didn’t arrive in time to save you.”

“We were ambushed, Arya. Nothing you could have done would have saved us,” Robb replied.

Oddly, Ned thought he heard Arya laugh, but when he looked at her there was nothing but seriousness in her expression. 

“Sandor dragged me away from there before the Frey’s noticed either of us. We spent some time traveling together before I left him and took a ship to Braavos. There I trained to become a Faceless Man. When I came back to Westeros a few years later I went to the Twins and killed Walder Frey’s two oldest sons. I baked them into a pie and fed it to him before killing him too. And I poisoned every other man in his house. The Frey’s are no more.” 

Ned was shocked. Appalled even. Arya said all of this with absolutely no inflection to her voice. As if she were reciting mundane lessons from her studies. _Was it true? Did she really kill old Walder’s sons and bake them into a pie?_ Even knowing what the nasty old man had done to his wife and son, Ned found Arya’s actions gruesome and abhorrent. _And what was this about becoming a Faceless Man?_ Ned had heard tell of these people. Legend held that they could change their appearance to become anyone at all. That they were heartless assassins, hired to kill in exchange for coin or favors. _Surely Arya had not actually trained with these Faceless Men, had not become one herself?_

Ned was reeling. Somehow despite everything he had heard today, despite literally waking from the dead, this was the most shocking and disturbing. Not to mention disappointing. And looking around the room he saw that he was not alone in his feelings. Catelyn and Robb shared similar looks of surprise and disgust. Even young Rickon appeared to be shaken by Arya’s revelation. None of them seemed to know how to respond. 

Surprisingly it was Sansa who broke the silence. “Arya did what she needed to do to survive.” Sansa’s tone left no room for argument. Ned marveled at Sansa’s quick defense of her sister. The relationship that seemed to have developed between his daughters was unlike anything Ned could have dreamed of when they were young. It was heartening to realize how close they had become. 

Still having a difficult time processing Arya’s history, but recognizing his children were not finished informing them of everything they needed to know, Ned decided to push the knowledge of Arya’s apparent assassin skills to the back of his mind for now and get on with the discussion. 

“Arya, I am grateful to you for avenging your mother and brother's deaths. I wish I had been here to help you. And I’m so sorry for all that you went through.” Arya inclined her head in recognition of Ned’s apology. She seemed to understand that he wanted to get on with this difficult conversation and from the tentative relief on her face he thought she felt similarly. Ned took a moment to scan the room, looking at each of these people whom he loved dearly and thought never to see again. He wanted to put this conversation behind them so they could get on with their lives and start enjoying one another again. “Is there more to your story?” Ned addressed this to Sansa, sensing that she was the one in charge. 

Sansa exhaled visibly. “Yes. Although I will sum it up as quickly as possible. The army of the dead marched on Winterfell just over five years ago. The Long Night brought with it a   
battle for mankind. The living fought bravely. We lost many good men and women that night. And thanks to Arya, who killed the Night King and destroyed the white walkers and the wights, we prevailed.”

Sansa took a deep breath before continuing. “Shortly after the Long Night, our Northern soldiers marched south to aid Daenerys Targaryen in her quest to retake the Iron Throne from Cersei who had proclaimed herself Queen. It was a terrible battle. Dragon fire destroyed much of King’s Landing and the Red Keep. Ultimately both Cersei and Daenerys died. Afterwards we held a council to choose a new King. Lord Tyrion was the one to suggest Bran and we all agreed. I insisted on independence for the North and have ruled as Queen ever since.”

Ned was beginning to become overwhelmed by information. It truly was too much to take in all at once. He would need to ask many questions and seek better understanding at a later time. He guessed Catelyn, Robb, and Rickon felt similarly. 

For now however, Ned was content to take the knowledge he had been given and spend some time thinking it over. Now that he knew the basic details, he felt better prepared to face this new world he had awoken to. 

Ned imagined this would be the end to their evening. He was certainly ready to lie down and get some sleep. He was not expecting Sansa’s announcement. 

He watched as Sansa walked across and whispered something into Arya’s ear. Arya nodded and then Sansa turned to address the room. 

“I know this has been difficult for all of you. I’d like to suggest that we take a break for the rest of the evening. I’m sure we could all use a good night's sleep. We can answer any questions or provide any clarification or extra details tomorrow. But before we retire to our bed chambers I have something you need to see. If you’ll excuse me a moment I will return shortly. Please help yourselves to food and drink while I am gone.”

Whatever Sansa had in mind was making her smile. She tried to hide it, but Ned could tell. He watched her leave the room and then got up to fill a goblet of wine for himself and his lady wife. Others in the room talked quietly among themselves, but Ned wasn’t ready to discuss the day’s events just yet. He needed some time with his thoughts. He was just settling back in his seat after giving Catelyn her wine when the door opened again. 

Ned was not sure what he expected. He certainly did not expect this. Of all the surprises that were revealed to him today, watching Sansa walk into the room with a small child on her hip and two young boys trailing behind her was certainly the most pleasant. 

“Mother, father. I should like you to meet your grandchildren.” 

Ned felt dizzy. His heartbeat sped up so rapidly that he was sure he might faint. _Grandchildren?_ Ned took a steadying breath. He’d often wondered what it might be like to be a grandfather. To watch his children grow to become parents themselves. He certainly did not expect that it would happen so soon. Although, he supposed the timing was about right, considering all the years that had passed since last he was alive. 

As Ned’s heartbeat steadied he was able to focus on Sansa and the children surrounding her. She gestured to the older of the two boys. He looked to be about five years old. He had straight dark hair and blue eyes and was looking around the room with curiosity. 

“This is Eddon Baratheon,” Sansa said just as the young boy caught sight of his parents and ran to be near them. He must have understood to some extent that this was an important moment because he did not speak aloud but whispered something to his father. 

Gendry pointed to Ned and Catelyn. “Eddon, these are your grandparents. Remember your grandfather Eddard for whom you are named? This is him. And your grandmother next to him. And over there is your uncle Robb, and there is your uncle Rickon. You might remember uncle Bran, although he looks a little different than last we saw him.”

Ned watched as Eddon — _his namesake?_ — shyly waved at each of his relatives as his father pointed them out. 

Ned’s attention was pulled from the young boy by Sansa’s next words. 

“And this is Theon Stark,” she said while placing her hand on the other young boy standing close to her side. This boy was younger than Eddon, Ned guessed he was closer to four years old, if not a little younger still. His hair was dark like his cousin’s but rather than straight hair, little Theon sported a mess of wild curls. He had grey eyes like his father. In fact, he looked so much like his father that Ned was momentarily taken aback. _Theon_. It seemed a fitting name for the boy. Unlike his wife and sons, Ned never knew of Theon Greyjoy’s betrayal. He had nothing but fond memories attached to that particular name. Ned had always considered Theon to be part of the family, and now here was this new little Theon, a Stark in his own right. Although why Jon and Sansa’s child bore the Stark name was a mystery to Ned. He would have to ask them how that came to be. 

Ned smiled at the boy and then turned his attention to the babe Sansa carried. “And this little lady is Brynn Stark.” Sansa planted a kiss on the child’s head. Ned was not sure but he thought he detected a bit of fine strawberry colored hair escaping from Brynn’s bonnet. Certainly her bright blue eyes came from her mother. It was hard to guess her age because she was dressed in a long white nightgown and Ned could not quite tell how big she was. He supposed she must be about a year old. 

Ned was pulled from his reflections by Catelyn’s sob. He looked to his wife to discover she was in tears. 

“Babies?” The word was broken by another sob. “You have babies? Both of you? Oh gods, they are beautiful.”

Catelyn moved to embrace Sansa. Then she stroked Brynn’s cheek and kissed her atop the head before bending down and whispering something to little Theon. Finally she stood and crossed the room toward where Arya’s little family stood. 

“Arya, I am so happy you found love and a life after everything you endured.” Ned wondered if Catelyn could sense something in Arya that kept her from embracing their younger daughter as she did Sansa. Instead, she kneeled down in front of Eddon and spoke quietly to him. Ned didn’t need to know what she was saying. He could imagine it clearly. 

After Catelyn introduced herself to their grandchildren, Ned did the same. He was always a little unsure of himself when it came to young children, but his excitement and love helped guide him forward and he felt that he made a good first impression. 

Later, as Ned was drifting off to sleep, safe in Winterfell with his lady wife by his side, his last thoughts of the day were not about wars or dragons, white walkers or devastation. Instead his mind turned to three small children and a bright future ahead for them all.


	15. Catelyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a rough couple of weeks and I have had trouble getting into a proper headspace for writing. Updates may be irregular for a while but I am fully committed to finishing this story.

Catelyn knocked softly on the nursery door as she opened it. She peeked inside and was pleased to see Sansa was indeed in there with the children. 

“Brienne said I might find you here. Do you mind if I join you?”

Catelyn held her breath. She would respect Sansa’s wish to be alone, but she desperately hoped she wouldn’t be turned away. 

Much to Catelyn’s relief, Sansa smiled and moved to the side of the bench she was sitting on in order to make room for her mother. 

“Of course. I’m glad you came. I was going to invite you in later but I assumed you would still be sleeping. It’s so early.”

It was early. The sun had only just risen, but Catelyn had been awake for a long while already. Her mind would not stop going over the information she had heard yesterday. So many things had happened after she’d died. Catelyn thought it might take years for her to sort through everything she’d learned. 

She looked around the nursery. The room looked much the same as it did when her own children were small. Little Rickon was just beginning to outgrow his time here when Catelyn’s world started to fall apart. But now was not the time to dwell on the past. Catelyn was here to reunite with her daughter and get to know her grandchildren. She took a seat next to Sansa on the bench. 

“I laid awake most of the night thinking about the children.” Catelyn turned to her daughter. “And everything else you told me. I’m truly sorry you had to endure so much.” She laid a hand on Sansa’s knee. 

Sansa gave her a small smile. “As strange as this might sound, I wouldn’t change anything that happened to me. Everything, both the good _and_ the bad, led me to where I am today. And I’m happy now.”

As if hearing her mother’s voice reminded her that she could be sitting with her rather than on the floor with her big brother and cousin, little Brynn got up and toddled towards Sansa. 

Sansa reached down and picked up the young girl and sat her comfortably on her lap. Catelyn couldn’t help but reach out and run her hand across Brynn’s hair. It was lighter in color that Sansa’s, closer to a strawberry blonde, and downy soft. She didn’t have much hair, but Catelyn recalled that neither did Sansa at that age. 

“How old is she?” Catelyn had assumed approximate ages for all three children, but she was ready to learn more about all of her grandchildren. 

“She’s a little over a year old now. She walked much earlier than Theon did. I think she means to keep up with him.” Sansa laughed softly. 

Catelyn turned her attention to young Theon. She had to admit that she felt uncomfortable with his name. Theon Greyjoy’s betrayal seemed much too recent, too raw. Even knowing that he did not in fact murder her boys, Catelyn was sure it would take some time for her to come around to the idea of Theon having been redeemed. 

As if sensing the direction Catelyn’s thoughts were headed, Sansa remarked “I know it must be difficult to hear me speak his name. Please believe that Theon Greyjoy was repentant. He more than paid for his crimes. I owe him my life. He saved me. He forced me to go on when I could no longer find the will to do so. He reminded me to fight for myself and my family. If it weren’t for him I would not be here today. Winterfell would not be ours and the North, maybe even all of Westeros, would have fallen to the white walkers. A moment ago I said I would not have changed anything, but that’s not entirely true. I do have one regret. I regret that Theon Greyjoy died in the battle for the living. I know he fought bravely and fiercely to defend his chosen home. His chosen family. But I miss him dearly and I still mourn him after all these years. It felt only right to name my firstborn son after Theon.” 

Catelyn was taken aback by the fervor of Sansa’s speech. From their conversation last night she understood that Theon had been an important person to Sansa, but she had to admit now that she had not fully grasped the extent of their relationship. 

Her hand reached out and found Sansa’s. She held her daughter’s hand tightly and looked her in the eye as she spoke.

“Thank you for helping me to understand. I would never want to upset you or have you think I am upset with you in any way. I love you Sansa. I know you have experienced many things since I left, and while I admit that it’s been difficult for me to learn of some of your… relationships, and it may take me some time to adjust to all that is changed, I swear to you that I am happy just to know you are happy.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “And I am _thrilled_ to get to know my grand babies.”

Sansa huffed a laugh in return. “They are wonderful, aren’t they?” 

Catelyn and Sansa spent a moment gazing at the boys as they played on the floor in front of them. They each had an army of wooden soldiers and they were setting up a battle. 

“I don’t like them playing such violent games,” Sansa confided quietly. “But Jon says this is how boys play and it doesn’t mean they will grow up to start wars.”

Catelyn could only nod. She remembered having similar thoughts as a young mother and being similarly reassured by her husband. She sent a silent prayer to the gods that things would turn out differently for her daughters’ children than it had for her own. 

“Theon has been very much looking forward to this visit from his big cousin. He misses Eddon greatly when they are apart.”

Catelyn smiled. Watching them together she could easily see they were good friends. She was glad they had one another. 

She turned her attention to the babe on Sansa’s lap. Young Brynn was resting her head on her mother’s chest, contentedly sucking her thumb. She eyed Catelyn with interest. 

“And this one,” she reached out to stroke the girl’s cheek, “I’m sure she is happy to have another playmate too.”

Sansa laughed softly. “She certainly is. In fact she was so excited after Eddon arrived yesterday that she had trouble sleeping last night. She’s barely out of bed and already tired again. Poor girl.” Sansa kissed her daughter’s head. 

“Brynn.” Catelyn tested the name on her lips. It was unusual, but Catelyn liked it. 

Again, Sansa seemed to know just what Catelyn was thinking. “Brynn here is named in honor of Brienne. I haven’t had a chance to thank you for sending me such a fierce and loyal protector.”

Since awaking in the godswood yesterday morning, Catelyn had found herself suddenly overcome with emotion and on the verge of tears many times. An intense surge of feeling would wash over her, often without warning. It was happening again just now. Catelyn blinked back tears and took a steadying breath. 

“Sending Brienne was my last best hope. I wanted so desperately to rescue you from the Lannisters. And Arya too — at the time we believed the two of you were together. I bargained and pleaded with anyone who would listen. I took a risk setting Jaime Lannister free, and trusting his word that he would free you in turn. I knew if anyone could see Jaime safely back to King's Landing and fight for you in my stead it would be Brienne. I’m sorry Jaime did not keep his end of the bargain, but I am forever grateful that Brienne continued her search and found you when you needed her most.”

Sansa leaned to her side and wrapped Catelyn in an embrace, little Brynn nestled between them. 

“I’m also sorry it did not work out the way you had planned. And I know at first appearance Jaime Lannister did not seem to keep his end of the bargain, but it was he who gave Brienne his sword and a squire and sent her in search of me after Joffrey was murdered. He was always kind to Brienne and in the end he defied his sister in order to come to Winterfell and fight with the living. His road to redemption was longer and bumpier, but I believe he was redeemed in the end.”

Catelyn didn’t know what to say. She would need some time to think through this new information. Before she had a chance to respond, the nursery door opened and Jon walked in. He appeared flustered at first to find her in here, sitting next to Sansa. But he quickly recovered himself and wished them both a good morning. 

“Sansa, a raven has arrived from King’s Landing. Tyrion wrote to tell us of Bran’s passing. I was hoping we could discuss how to respond.” He seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “We should also decide what to tell the Northern houses about…” he allowed his voice to trail off. 

It was not necessary to finish his thought. Sansa knew what he meant. Even Catelyn herself understood that informing the Northerners — and she supposed their allies in Westeros too — that the dead members of the Stark family were alive once again was going to make for a complicated conversation. 

Catelyn rose to her feet. She had spent much of the night thinking over everything she had learned about the years following her death. At first she had thought all her old fears had come true and her husband’s bastard had indeed weaseled his way into power and disinherited her own children as a result. But after hearing a more complete version of events it seemed she was mistaken. Jon had fought for the Stark family as if he truly belonged and although she still did not fully understand his relationship with Sansa or how it came to be, she recognized his importance in protecting her daughter and helping secure the safety of their family home and indeed all of the North. After much reflection, Catelyn had resolved to treat Jon differently in this new life than she had in her past. She saw no reason not to begin now. Looking at Jon but directing her words to both him and Sansa, Catelyn spoke. 

“Why don’t you allow me to stay here with the children until their nursemaid returns. It seems the two of you have much to discuss.” She tried to smile at him, but found it much harder to do in actuality that it was in her thoughts. She settled on what she hoped was a pleasant incline of her head instead. 

Jon, apparently made speechless by her addressing him so directly, only stared at her. Sansa was quick to respond in his place. “That would be nice, mother. Thank you. Marta should be returning shortly. If you find yourself hungry when you leave here, please inform Brienne and she will have someone send a tray of food to your room. My request from yesterday still stands. Please be sure to keep to the family quarters until we’ve had a chance to officially announce your return.” 

Catelyn watched Sansa set Brynn back on the floor next to her brother and cousin and leave the room with Jon. Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she had a long way to go before she could be fully comfortable thinking of Jon as a part of the family, but she had to start somewhere. She hoped her efforts were received as she intended, with an overture of peace and goodwill.


	16. Jon

Jon closed the door behind him and followed Sansa to the desk. She took the seat behind the desk and he sat in front of it, facing her. 

He handed her the scroll from Tyrion and watched as she read it. He saw each and every emotion she experienced while reading it pass over her features. Someone who was not as familiar with her as Jon was might not notice, but to Jon everything Sansa was thinking as she read the message was written on her face plain as day. 

Jon had read Tyrion’s letter already. It told of Bran’s recent obsession with old magic, and that the small council believed Bran’s death was somehow related to the experiments he had been conducting. Tyrion expressed his sympathies for their brother’s loss. He had also related his concerns that Westeros would not be able to remain united while awaiting the appointment of a new King or Queen. 

Jon reflected that while it was true that Bran’s reign had restored peace and prosperity throughout the land, with this new stability came a push for greater autonomy from regions like Dorne and the Reach. Even Arya and Gendry had expressed interest in the Stormlands someday becoming independent like the North and the Iron Islands. 

Tyrion was right to be concerned that the loss of their King would jeopardize the stability of Westeros. Jon himself was concerned. As allies and neighbors, the stability of Westeros had a direct effect on the North. It was in Sansa and Jon’s interest that Westeros designate a new ruler as quickly as possible. Tyrion’s letter indicated that he would welcome Jon and Sansa’s help determining possible candidates for the Westerosi throne. This was one of many things he and Sansa needed to discuss this morning. With everything happening in their personal lives did they want to add this burden too? Were they even the right people to offer aid, seeing as how they were not Westerosi citizens and had not been for many years? He supposed Tyrion was asking as a friend more than anything. But choosing a successor to Bran did not seem like a task he and Sansa were well suited to. He supposed they could ask Bran himself. Jon found that idea amusing. _Wait_ , he thought to himself, _if Bran is alive again does that mean he is still King?_ Gods this was too complicated. The last thing they needed right now was another complicated situation to deal with. They had enough going on with the return of their dead family. Jon let out an exasperated huff. All he wanted was to take Sansa and their children and go somewhere that their problems wouldn’t be able to follow. He knew that was impossible however. He would stay and face their problems head on. 

Sansa finished reading and looked at him. “What do you think of all this?” 

Jon laughed mirthlessly. “Of Tyrion’s letter informing us of our brother's death and asking us to help him choose a new ruler of Westeros? Or are you asking how I feel about our dead family members coming back to life and expecting to pick things up just as they left them?” 

The look on Sansa’s face was one of sympathy and understanding, if not perhaps a little irritation at his tone. He’d best apologize. Taking out his frustration on the one person who made his life truly good was never a smart idea. 

Jon raked his hands down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m not sure what’s come over me.”

Sansa set down the scroll and stood from her chair. She walked around the desk and came to kneel on the floor beside Jon’s chair. She took his hand between her own and made sure he was looking into her eyes before she spoke. 

“You’ve no need to apologize. I know exactly what you’re feeling because I’m having similar feelings myself. If you had asked me three days ago if I’d want my family to come back to me I would have said yes without hesitation. I’ve missed them all so much. I never would have thought having them back would be so challenging. But I believe that once we get through this initial awkwardness we will find that having our family back together only makes us stronger and happier. I truly believe it.”

Jon looked at his wife. He trusted her in all things and he could see she spoke truth now. They had been through so much together. He had no doubt she was right about their ability to make it through this too. And it was true that he was happy to have his family back. He still had some unresolved issues to discuss with them, but he believed Sansa when she said that they would likely come out stronger when this was all said and done. 

Jon reflected on the scene he had walked into a moment ago in the nursery. He had expected Sansa to be there with the children. Her morning routine always involved some time spent with the children after she broke her fast. He was not prepared to find Catelyn in there with her. At first he was startled at the discovery but he quickly recovered and attempted to be as polite as possible. Catelyn surprised him greatly when she not only addressed him in her response but looked and spoke to him without her usual disdain and hostility. He might venture to say she was verging on polite. He wondered about the change in her. _Did the revelation that he was not in fact Ned’s bastard cause her to re-think her treatment of him?_ Jon suddenly became curious about what she and Sansa had been discussing when he walked in. 

“I believe you are right, as usual.” He laughed softly and squeezed Sansa’s hand. “You seemed to be having a nice conversation with your mother.” 

Sansa smiled slightly. “Yes. It was nice. I was telling her about the children. She seems genuinely happy to get to know them.”

Jon saw the uncertainty in Sansa’s eyes and guessed at its cause. “Were you worried she may not care for Theon and Brynn because they are mine?”

Jon watched as the uncertainty in Sansa’s face flashed from guilt to sadness. “I suppose to some extent I was. But now I’m hopeful that learning of your true parentage and of all we went through, and perhaps being given this second chance at life, has compelled her to change. She even seemed to accept Theon’s name. And surely you noticed how she spoke to you and interacted with you in an almost polite manner.”

Jon could hear the hope in Sansa’s voice. He knew she loved her mother and wanted this to be a happy reunion. He also knew that there were things holding her back from fully embracing their family’s return. Sansa’s relationship with Jon was one of the main reasons she held back. He knew she was worried that their relationship and the family they had created together would not be accepted. It was encouraging that Catelyn seemed to be approaching them with peace and understanding. 

“I did notice. And I’m pleased she seems to be accepting of the children. And perhaps even me.”

Sansa’s eyes lit up. He could see how much she wanted to have this in her life. But she was still hesitant. Nothing good in Sansa’s life had come easily. She did not often allow herself to wish for good things. He would take that leap of faith for her. 

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m happy your mother is back. I’m happy they have all returned.” He kissed her again. “Now, what do we do about Tyrion’s letter?”

Sansa sighed. She stood and walked to look out the window. “I have no desire to travel to King’s Landing to sit on another council. I would like to help Tyrion, as a friend and ally, but I’m not sure it’s really our place to decide upon the next ruler of Westeros. And I suppose we should tell him that Bran’s experiment worked and the Stark family is alive again. Although, does that mean Bran is still King?”

Jon watched as Sansa came to the same realization he himself had arrived at only moments ago. Sansa continued thinking out loud, “but if we go by that precedent then what of Robb? He was named King in the North first. What of his claim to the title?”

Jon had not considered this possibility. The brothers of the Night's Watch had still deferred to Jon as their Lord Commander even after he had died and been resurrected. The two circumstances were not entirely comparable. Jon had been dead for merely a couple of days. There hadn't even been time to replace him. Jon doubted that Robb would have much sway if he appealed to be reinstated as King in the North. He may not even want that. Bran’s reign was an entirely different matter. Like Jon, Bran had only been dead for a short period of time before coming back. Westeros had not yet found a new ruler. Bran’s claim to the throne was significantly stronger. Although, convincing the citizens of Westeros that the boy Bran was now and the man he used to be were in fact one and the same person may be an impossible feat. 

He voiced these concerns to Sansa. Clearly there was much to consider. He supposed they should send for Bran to ask what his thoughts were on the matter. 

Jon signed. “Let’s put off replying to Tyrion just yet. First we need to hear what Bran has to say. And we should probably begin informing everyone here at Winterfell and the Northern Lords of the family’s return.”

Sansa agreed and left to inform the staff. They would make a formal announcement during the evening meal. In the meantime, Sansa would ask Bran to provide counsel on the issue of the Weaterosi throne. Jon set about writing the Northern Lords.

He had just set pen to paper when there was a knock at the door. He bid them enter and was pleasantly surprised to see Ned walk through the door. Jon rose to greet him. “Father,” he said, coming around the desk and bringing Ned into a quick hug. “It’s good to see you.” 

Jon said this with a smile as he genuinely meant it. Ned had always been good and kind to Jon, as good a father as he could be considering the perceived circumstances of his birth. There had been a time years ago that Jon had felt anger and dismay when he thought of Ned, after he had learned of his true parentage and Ned’s deceit. But he had long since forgiven Ned’s actions and had arrived at a place of understanding. He knew Ned did the right thing in claiming Jon as his own bastard son. He was grateful to him for sacrificing so much to protect Jon’s own life. Jon was happy to have Ned back, for all their sakes. 

Ned returned his smile as he pulled out of the hug. He squeezed Jon’s upper arm lovingly and said, “It’s good to be back. And it’s good to see you again Jon. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“Yes, of course.” Jon gestured toward the other side of the room where a small settee and two chairs were arranged for conversation. Ned settled himself on the settee while Jon took the chair opposite him. He looked to Ned expectantly. Ned appeared to be considering his next words so Jon took the opportunity to have a good look at this man who had been his father for most of his life. There had been so much confusion and so many emotions the day before that Jon hadn’t had time or focus to simply look at Ned, to see the ways he had changed and not changed in the time since they’d been apart. At first glance Ned appeared much the same as he did the day Jon last saw him. He had not aged noticeably, his clothing and hair were worn in a similar style as Jon remembered. This did not surprise him in the least. Ned was not a man for frivolous displays of outward appearances. Upon closer inspection however, Jon noticed the worry lines on Ned’s face, around his eyes mostly. Not for the first time since learning of his father’s death Jon wondered just what Ned had experienced those last few months before his execution. Looking at him now it was obvious to Jon that Ned had been under significant stress and worry. He hoped to have a chance to talk about everything that Ned discovered and experienced in King’s Landing during his short reign as Hand. Jon sensed that particular conversation would have to wait for another time. Ned was about to speak and Jon knew there were more pressing matters Ned wished to discuss with Jon this morning. 

Ned cleared his throat. “I wish to apologize to you Jon. I regret that you did not hear the truth about your birth from me as you deserved. I should have told you when you grew old enough to understand. At the very least I should have told you before we parted ways that day on the Kingsroad. I was a coward and I am sorry.”

Jon sat with Ned’s words for a few moments before replying. He had longed to hear a similar apology from Ned for many years. He had imagined how it might go and what Ned might say. He’d imagined how he would react to hearing Ned admit that Jon had deserved to know the truth from him years earlier. Now that he was actually experiencing the moment he had pictured in his mind so many times, Jon had to admit that he wasn’t nearly as emotionally affected as he thought he would be. Perhaps that was due to Jon having already had years to process the information, to forgive and move forward. 

It was Jon’s turn to clear his throat before speaking. “I accept your apology. As I said when we spoke briefly about this yesterday, I’ve long since forgiven you. I’m just happy I can say it to you in person.”

Ned breathed a sigh of relief. “I know you said so yesterday and I appreciate it. For my own peace of mind I needed to come to you today to say it again, to be sure you understand that I am truly repentant.”

“I do understand and I absolve you of any further regret on my behalf. I understand better than most what it is like to feel guilty and remorseful of one’s actions, and to receive forgiveness and understanding from the people who matter most. I hope you may find peace in your past actions as I have found peace in mine.”

Jon knew he would have to confess the full extent of his role in Dany’s conquest of Westeros and the destruction of King’s Landing, that he would have to provide his returned family a complete version of events and elaborate on the rushed account they heard the previous night. Jon knew that Sansa deliberately brushed over his relationship with Dany, the fact that he had bent the knee and willingly sacrificed the North’s freedom and independence, because she herself had forgiven him. As he had forgiven her for her betrayal. It had taken time and trust — and love — for the two of them to arrive at an understanding. They could not expect those who were just returning to come to a similar understanding so quickly. Jon knew that was why Sansa hadn't elaborated on her tale last night. And he knew that Ned could not understand in this moment that Jon’s words came from lived experience, but he hoped he heard the truth in them nonetheless. 

Ned nodded his head solemnly. “Thank you Jon.”

Wishing to change the subject and sensing that Ned did too, Jon rose and walked toward the sideboard where he and Sansa kept refreshments. “May I offer you a drink?”

Seeming grateful for the opportunity to move the conversation in a different direction, Ned accepted. 

Once Jon had returned with their drinks and settled himself back into his chair, he spoke. “I am sure you have questions regarding me and Sansa.” _Best get this out of the way early on_ , Jon thought to himself. 

To Jon’s surprise, Ned laughed. “I would certainly like to hear how that came about. But all in good time. Your explanations last night made it clear that you and Sansa experienced many things that changed your outlook on life and love. All of us did. The Jon and Sansa I knew when I was alive would never have entertained the idea of a marriage between them, but you are not those same young people and I realize you haven’t been for a long time. And honestly, I feel I am in the best position to accept your union considering I’m the only one who has always known you two are not siblings. The rest of the family will come around.”

Jon knew Ned meant Catelyn and Robb. Rickon didn’t appear to care one way or another and Bran and Arya had “come around” long ago. Still, he was grateful that Ned, at least, seemed to be content to accept his relationship with Sansa and move on. And if his encounter with Catelyn this morning was any indication, perhaps she too was ready to make amends and accept the new world into which she awoke. Robb, on the other hand, remained to be seen. Jon hoped Robb could find it within himself to be accepting or, at the very least, understanding. Now that his first best friend and brother had returned, Jon did not wish to lose him again. 

“I appreciate your understanding, and I know Sansa will too,” Jon told Ned with a smile. “We have agreed to announce your return during the evening meal. And I was composing messages to be sent to the Northern Lords today as well. We cannot hide you forever and Bran’s apparent death has brought about some concerns in King’s Landing that we need to help address in a timely manner.”

“Yes, it seems we are back to stay. No need prolonging the inevitable.” Ned stood as he spoke. He placed his empty goblet on a side table and turned back to address Jon again. “Thank you for consenting to speak with me. I am grateful to be given this second chance to live my life and make things right with the people I love. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have three very important young people whom I am eager to get to know.” Ned smiled and Jon could see the genuine enthusiasm in his face at the thought of becoming acquainted with his grandchildren. 

“They will have you wrapped around their little fingers in no time,” Jon exclaimed as he rose from his seat. Both men laughed. “I shall look forward to an interesting meal this evening, if I do not see you before,” Jon said as he led the way to the door. 

After seeing Ned out, Jon returned to the desk. He wondered if he was imagining the lightness he felt in his shoulders. As if a weight he was not even aware he was carrying had been lifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the most part I've tried to remain true to canon, but I just can't accept that Yara didn't immediately jump at the chance for independence. So in this story, the Iron Islands are independent just like the North.


	17. Rickon

Rickon watched Arya say something to her husband and the other man they were with and then turn and walk towards where he was standing. He had heard the clatter of weapons while wandering through the hallways of the family wing early in the morning. Frustrated and unable to sleep, Rickon had left his bed as the sun was rising and thought he would entertain himself by exploring the castle. Instead, he had stumbled upon his sister training in a small courtyard below one of the walkways. He had stopped to watch her and found himself entranced. She moved quickly and silently. Her movements were swift and fluid, like water running over stones in a creek bed. Rickon stared in awe as time and time again Arya bested her opponents. First it was her husband. Gendry was his name, Rickon recalled. Rickon believed Gendry put up a good fight. He was obviously used to sparring with Arya and was more familiar with her moves and her technique than the man who came later. But even Gendry, who was physically bigger and stronger than Arya, was no match for her skill. After some time another man appeared and Arya invited him to spar in Gendry’s place. This new man was a knight of some sort. Perhaps a Kingsguard, Rickon guessed, based on his attire. He was wearing a similar set of armor and a cloak that resembled the one worn by the big woman who found them in the Godswood when they first came back from the dead. Brienne. This man was younger than Brienne and somewhat nondescript. Rickon noted his brown hair and the fact that both Arya and Gendry appeared to be acquainted with him. Friendly even. He seemed to have no problem fighting against Arya, a woman and the sister of the King and Queen. Clearly they had done this before. 

Rickon watched the three of them for a long time. The sun was up and the day was new and bright by the time they parted ways. The two men walked off together, and Arya looked directly to where Rickon was hiding and began walking in his direction. Rickon felt he had hidden himself well in the dark hallway, peering out the window from his place against the wall. He was not standing fully in front of the open window, and therefore did not expect that the fighters below could see him. Nor did he imagine they would have any reason to look up; he was careful to be quiet and not draw undue attention to himself. Nevertheless, his sister seemed to know exactly where he was and within moments she appeared in the hallway beside him. It was unnerving really. 

“I can teach you if you’d like,” Arya said as she came into view before him. 

Rickon was startled. Not just at her sudden appearance, but by her words. 

“Teach me?” He asked, partly seeking clarification and partly because he was too surprised to come up with a better response. 

“To fight.”

To fight. Of course that’s what she meant. As much as Rickon would enjoy the benefits of being able to move silently and stealthily as Arya could, he doubted he was physically capable of it. His body had grown long and lanky the last year he was alive and he no longer felt comfortable in his own skin. He blamed his lack of coordination and control of his own arms and legs for his inability to outrun Ramsey’s arrows. For getting him captured in the first place. No, silent and stealthy movements were not for him. He would never have the grace to fight like Arya. More traditional fighting however, maybe that was something he could learn. A skill he could acquire to defend himself and those he cared for. But then again, it was probably too late for that. 

“I’m too old to learn to fight,” Rickon replied bitterly. “I’ve no practice with weapons.”

To his surprise Arya laughed. “Too old? Rickon my boy you are not too old at all. Do you think I had weapons practice as a child? Of course not. I was a _girl_ after all. No, I was at least your age if not much older by the time I truly learned to fight. And do you know what?”

Arya waited. _Did she actually expect a reply from him?_

“What?” He asked, almost hesitant to hear the answer. 

“Learning to fight _saved_ me. And not just from enemies or those who would hurt me. It saved me from loneliness and fear, from living a life filled with anger and rage.”

She paused and looked at him, seeming unsure how to say what she was thinking. 

“Look Rickon. I understand. Likely better than anyone else in our family. I know what it’s like to be alone in the world. To feel lost and abandoned. To be young and vulnerable and without so much as a shelter over your head. I lived that way for far too long and it hardened me. It hardened my heart. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Rickon might have laughed if he could still feel. Hardened heart indeed. “It’s already happened, but I thank you for your concern. Learning to fight would be useless. Apparently I’ve no enemies left.”

Rickon stepped around Arya in an attempt to leave the conversation but she grabbed him by the arm and stopped him. “As I said… learning to fight will do more than protect you from enemies. It will help focus your mind and give you a purpose. It can help you to heal.”

Rickon considered Arya’s words. He had felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness since awaking from the dark void of death. He did not like this new life and the pressures that came with it. Family members he barely remembered now suddenly expected that he would be happy to see them, to know them, and let them love him. He wanted none of it. Even thinking about it was too hard, hence his inability to sleep last night. 

But here was Arya, his sister, telling him that she understood. And Rickon found that he believed her. He had listened to her story the previous evening. He knew what she had lived through after being abandoned in King’s Landing. If anyone could appreciate what Rickon had experienced, it was Arya. Perhaps she was right and he did need a sense of purpose, a distraction from his complicated feelings. As much as Rickon wanted to return to the emptiness of the afterlife—or, in his wildest fantasies, to return to the time before he and Osha and Shaggydog had been captured—Rickon realized there was likely no easy way to leave his current circumstances. And if he was going to be stuck here at Winterfell, he might as well learn a useful skill. Besides, any time spent in the training yard would be time away from the guilty, pleading looks of his parents. He would do almost anything to avoid direct interaction with them right now. 

His mind made up, Rickon nodded. “Fine then. Teach me to fight.”

Arya smiled and smacked him on the back. “You won’t regret it. I have some things to attend to this morning but let’s meet in a few hours and test some weapons until we find a kind that suits you. I’m thinking a staff to begin with. In fact, I will have Gendry make something for you. We’ll train every morning at sunrise. Gendry and Pod can join us too. It’ll be good for you to learn to fight against a larger opponent than me. For now let’s keep this between the four of us. We don’t want Jon to hear of it and get all pissy. Trust me, the longer we can delay that, the better.” Arya laughed again and began to lead them back toward the family chambers while informing Rickon what he could expect from their first lesson. 

Despite his initial hesitation, Rickon found himself becoming excited about the prospect of spending time with his sister and having her teach him to fight. When they parted ways he was able to honestly say he looked forward to seeing her later, and he left with a renewed sense of hopefulness and a lightness to his step.


	18. Bran

Bran had just awoken from a long and strange dream when he heard the knock at his door. He had fallen asleep in his clothes the night before so there was no need to dress before seeing who was on the other side. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, planted his feet on the floor, and stood. Such a simple movement, and one he endeavored to never take for granted again. He shuffled across the room on bare feet (enjoying the feeling of the cool stones against his skin) and opened the door. 

Bran was pleasantly surprised to see Sansa on the other side. And he was pleasantly surprised to simply be surprised. Not knowing what to expect was quickly becoming his favorite part about returning. Regaining the use of his lower extremities was equally enjoyable. As was reuniting with his family. Yes, he was extremely pleased with his decision to experiment with the old magic. 

Returning his attention to the matter at hand, Bran bid Sansa good morning. 

“Good morning to you too Bran. I was hoping we might speak for a few moments.”

Bran gestured for Sansa to enter and stood back so she might pass. “Please come in. I’m excited to hear what you wish to discuss.”

Sansa chuckled. “I’m sure the suspense is a novelty.”

“Yes,” Bran replied. “It’s a benefit of this new life I’m quite enjoying. Among other things.”

“I can imagine.”

They sat down at the small table in the center of the room between the two beds. Bran noted that Rickon must have already woken and left, despite the early hour. Perhaps he was reuniting with their parents. Bran hoped so. He thought the three of them could use some quiet time alone to become reacquainted. 

“Well,” he addressed Sansa again as they sat. “What was it you wished to discuss?”

Sansa sighed. “We received a raven this morning from Tyrion. He’s quite beside himself that you died and left no heir.”

Bran had expected this might be the topic of their conversation. By now word of Bran’s passing would have spread throughout the Red Keep, perhaps even into the Capitol and beyond. Bran had considered leaving Tyrion a message to be delivered upon word of the King’s death, but in the end he had decided not to. It had been agreed on by all of the council members that upon a King or Queen’s death a new ruler would be chosen by a similarly formed council of Lords Paramount and other influential men and women of the realm. Bran trusted that Tyrion would do his duty and form such a council. He did not wish to sway their decision by leaving a list of candidates he felt were suitable. Let the new council make those decisions themselves. It had worked to everyone’s benefit the first time. Bran had no reason to doubt the practice would continue to be successful. 

“It was never agreed that I would name an heir. It is Tyrion’s duty as Hand of the King to form a council to decide that matter. You are well aware, having been there yourself when they chose me.”

This did not seem to be the answer Sansa wanted to hear. “That may be the case but Tyrion is concerned that the stability of Westeros may be threatened if it takes too long to find a replacement for you. And that’s not all...” She hesitated before continuing, “Jon and I cannot announce your return, nor the return of the others, without causing considerable confusion. Are you not still King since you are alive?”

This was something Bran had considered himself. There was not much of a precedent for this situation. Jon’s death and resurrection had not voided his role of Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, but there were few other cases of someone being brought back from the dead and none that involved a King or Queen. Of course, Bran knew that if he was successful then he would be bringing not just one King back from the dead, but two. He would be creating the very precedent he had been searching for, though he suspected that Robb would not feel inclined to take back his throne from Jon and Sansa. Bran himself had no desire to resume his position as King. 

“Bran the Broken is gone. I may have his memories but the version of Bran you see before you is much different than the man who ruled a kingdom just a few days ago. I will not return to that life. I trust that Tyrion and the council will find a suitable replacement. And I believe his fears for the stability of the realm are unfounded. Surely he can maintain peace and order for a few months while the council convenes. Tyrion is a competent leader.”

Sansa sighed again. “But what do we tell him—and _everyone_ —about your return?”

“Tell them the truth. I experimented with old magic in an attempt to restore my family. And I was successful. Since I was returned in my childhood state I am no longer fit to rule as I once did. Nor do I wish to. For all intents and purposes, King Bran is dead. Tyrion will need to do what must be done to find a replacement.”

His response seemed to irritate Sansa further. Perhaps it was not what she wished to hear. Or perhaps she simply did not want to relay his message to Tyrion. Bran felt badly that he was putting her in this difficult position. But it was time he stepped away from his adult duties and resumed the life and childhood he had missed out on. He meant what he said: he truly believed Tyrion would succeed in finding a satisfactory replacement. And the realm would be in good hands—Tyrion’s hands—during the transition. 

“Fine then.” Sansa rose from her chair with an air of resignation. “I will do my best to explain the circumstances to Tyrion and encourage him to begin forming a council as soon as possible.”

Before Sansa left to inform Jon of Bran’s decision and send a raven to Tyrion, she let him know that they would announce the Starks’ return to everyone at Winterfell and some of the nearby Northern families at the evening meal. Bran promised to stay out of sight until then.


End file.
